#his features and voice only get softer and kinder with age | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

calcifermovesthecastle · 4 years ago

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S/o that asks for affection unconsciously when they wake up without even noticing (nsfw?), how would the Bucci gang + josuke + young joseph+ giorno react? :>

So I don’t age up characters for NSFW, so I’ll just do fluff for Narancia, Josuke, Fugo, Giorno and Trish, but I will add some Adult Characters with NSFW for your troubles. :) I’ll add a cut for the NSFW as well so anyone can read before the cut, but only 18+ after please!

Warnings: Language

Bucciarati (Fluff):

-He’s surprised when you hug him from behind when just standing around, or when you slip your hand in his just sitting, or stand behind him while he’s sitting and scratch his back (BLEASE DO THIS FOR HIM he will on god love you forever)

-So when you two decide to move in, he’s also surprised to find that this carries over into sleeping.

-He’ll wake up with you literally splayed out on top of him, And he blushes so hard. He’ll try to gently push you off of him back onto the bed, because surely you can’t be comfortable like that.

-Will immediately stop when you tighten your grip and stir, instead allowing his hands to rest on your back.

-He’s honestly not used to it but he will indulge you because god you’re so warm, and so soft and so beautiful in his arms.

-You’ll notice when you’re awake that he’ll start to return your touches, leaning into your back scratches, squeezing your hand when you slip yours into his, Place his hands over your arms when you hug him from behind.

-Will never say why, though. It’s his secret.

Abbacchio (Fluff):

-You may not notice, but god, does he.

-He Panic. You’re half awake, and you just reach out and pull yourself closer to him, nuzzling your face into his chest, Your breath evening out.

-Oh god what does he do with his hands are you even comfortable there’s no way you’re comfortable jesus what the hell

-He opts to push you away, but you tighten your hold, babbling something out in your sleep about being warm.

-(He do be warm tho ngl)

-It takes everything, and I mean, E v e r y t h i n g in him to give in and rest his arms around you, but once he does, and you snuggle even closer? God he’s in love. You’re literally the most precious thing to him.

-When you’re awake tho he will absolutely push you off the bed without remorse. (Expect a top of the head kiss from him though he’s soft.)

Mista (Fluff):

-He’s laying awake, tracing his finger along the wall, making damn sure the sex pistols don’t wake you.

-In his distraction, you reach out, grasping his arm and hugging it.

-(Arcana reference but Julian laugh) Oh ho ho!

-He takes note that you’re still asleep, and pulls you on top of him, securing his arms around you so that you don’t slip off.

-Instead of tracing the wall, he will now be trailing his fingers up and down your arms and back, and through your hair.

-His heart is melting you’re so god damn cute. He’ll tighten his grip, just gazing down at you with nothing but adoration in his eyes.

-He will tease the everloving shit out of you when you wake up. Like he will not stfu about it.

-He will also be a million times more physically affectionate with you during the day lol it’s sickening

-He is NOT stinky JFC

Fugo:

-Whaaaaat are you doing?

-Oh, you’re asleep.

-WHAAATTT ARE YOU DOIIINNNGGGGG

-He’ll stiffen up, but oh no you’re sleeping he cant just...push you away... he’s not heartless....

-He is confused to say the least, and a lil bit uncomfy, but he trusts you.

-Watches as your features relax as your face presses into the crook of his neck and your arm tightens around his middle. Oh fuck you’re cute

-you’ve won him over.

-He’ll wrap an arm around your waist, (So you don’t fall dsjdsjdsj) and let you be close to him. He enjoys it too, if he’s being honest. You’re so cute.

-When you wake up, he’s much kinder and softer towards you. He’ll make any excuse to gently bump knees while you’re sitting or to brush his hand against yours while reaching for something.

-Only because you asked for it tho

Narancia:

-Nani in tarnation is goin on?

-He’s completely taken by surprise. You’re asleep? And you want him? To hold you? ???? ?????? *Windows start up sounds*

-He literally doesn’t know what to do He’s so soft and so confused with his negative brain cells (I do hate him but I will admit he does have a big heart he is a sweetie)

-He will, a little too eagerly, hug you back. His tenacity may or may not wake you up. (It does. Sorry.)

-You wake up to a surprise hug though so win win?

-The more you subconsciously ask, the more he gives, until you two are literally glued together. (Social distancing whomst? We don’t know her.)

-Expect sloppy kisses everywhere. On the other hand, funnily enough, you will have to initiate the hugging. He’s so scared. What if he hugs you too tight? What if he wakes you up again? What if he suffocates you? What if you don’t like his hugs

-Hug him jfc he needs reassurance that you want to be held.

-Sleepy morning hugs where you two are just breathing in sync and there’s not a care in the world are his favorite

Giorno-

-He is a light sleeper. I know I’ve said this before, but he is a very, very, very light sleeper.

-So when you reach out and grasp at any piece of him you can reach, trying to close the gap between you (It’s a cold winter morning, come on)

-He’ll startle awake and look over at you to check and see if you’re okay.

-Oh, you are okay. Oh, you just want held? Alright. He’s up for that. Oh. You’re asleep? He’ll have to be especially careful to not wake you.

-He will pull you close and rub circles into your back, pressing his cheek against the top of your head. He might even fall back asleep. If you stir, it’s not for long. His warmth and soothing movements lull you back to sleep in the safety of his arms.

-When you’re awake, he’ll definitely be more affectionate, pressing tiny flowers into your hands, brushing your hair back, k i s s i n g y o u r k n u c k l e s (Im so fucking soft)

-But seriously imagine Giorno getting down on one knee, taking your hand, and brushing his lips against your knuckles while looking up at you with literally nothing but love and affection in his eyes im going to cry

-Anything he does will have you a blushing mess

Trish:

-Who tf is waking her up?

-oh, it’s you

-Oh, you’re hugging her

-OH, You’re still asleep.

-O H, you’re fucking cute!

-She’ll study you for a minute, before reaching up to lightly cup your cheek in her hand, careful not to wake you up. Her fingers will flutter over your face, tracing your features. She absolutely adores how precious you look snuggled up against her.

-When you wake up, expect to have your hand held all day. Trish is the queen of hand holding. She will also take your face in her hands and kiss the corners of your lips, and rest her head on your shoulder when you two are sitting next to each other.

-She’ll have this smug look on her face the whole time too dsjdsjdsjdsjds

-Will absolutely do the disgusting feeding each other thing. “Babe, try this!” *Proceeds to hold forkful of food in front of your mouth. “Oh, that looks good, can I have some?” *Lets you do the same*

-It’s revolting and I love it.

Joseph (Fluff):

-He’s already awake. He’s got to get up early and train (Viva reverie reference: “With these tall hat guys for a looooong time!”) But oops, you just so happened to burrow against him, and your arm seems to have found its way across his stomach. What a predicament, you’re still asleep! He can’t wake you!

-He decides that he just doesn’t have the heart to move you, and wraps his arms around you to pull you even closer. What if you get cold? He’s warm, you’ll be warm next to him!

-He will hold you against him until you wake up, no matter how late it makes him. Punishments be damned. You’re way too cute and this opportunity is way too good to pass up.

-In all honesty though he’s elated that you want him to hold you. This carries over into you being awake. He’ll be hanging off of you. Hell, He’ll carry you around if you give the okay. He will absolutely kneel so he can carry you around on his shoulders.

-He’s very handsy, so rip to your personal space. You asked for it, after all. You wanna sit in that chair over there? Aww, that’s too bad. He’s your chair now.

-Are you complaining tho? He’s got some thicc thighs, you’ll be pretty comfy.

-Psst his hands are gonna be like twice your size compare hand sizes he will love it

Josuke:

-He’s already cuddly bb

-But if on the rarest of rare occasions he either 1.) wakes up before you or 2.) Isnt already holding you, and you press closer to him in your sleep, just maybe ball his shirt up in your fists as you clutch at him, yearning for the affection you’re too scared to ask for when you’re awake

-Oh god he cry

-He cry so hard

-He is the (Parker James’ Steven Voice) CEO of bear hugs. Especially if someone as adorable as you is cuddling up against him.

-He will pull you up against him and bury his face in your hair, maybe even falling back asleep himself. (good luck getting out of his embrace when he’s asleep lol There’s no chance.)

-it is always a nice surprise to wake up cocooned in his arms, his entire body wrapped around you.

-When you’re both awake, He’ll do lots of little things for you. Absentmindedly rub your back and shoulders, sling an arm around your shoulders, link pinkies, hold hands, forehead kisses

-He will lift you up and spin you around and kiss you but shh don’t tell anyone

-He is

-so GOD damn soft I love him

NSFW BELOW THE CUT

18+ ONLY

BUCCIARATI:

-He’s in the midst of registering being awake, getting prepared for the day, when he notices that you’re uh

-he can’t help his erection when he sees you bury your face in his neck and grind your hips against him. You’re still asleep, what could you possibly be dreaming about?

-Oh god if he hears you whimper his name it’s all over for you.

-Shakes your shoulder, peering into your sleep-gripped eyes and smiles nervously.

-”Tesoro, would you mind if I made love to you before I left for work?”

-Your lips on his are answer enough. He’ll thrust into you at a slow, sensual speed, showering you in praises, leaving soft kisses all over your body. Never marking, but always making sure the feeling of his mouth lingers on your skin.

-He will speak only in italian during this time, so unless you know italian, don’t count on understanding anything he says. (You’ll have a pretty good Idea of what he means tho 👀)

-He will absolutely make sure you won’t be getting out of bed for the rest of the day. He definitely has a way of making your body melt under his touch. He’s never rough. He’s so, so gentle with you, and you’d be surprised how quickly he can have you cumming because of it.

-If you ask nicely, he’ll stay in bed with you for a little longer afterwards, pressing kisses into your hair and telling you how much he cherishes you

-”You don’t have to be afraid, dolcezza. My arms are always open for you. You’ll find in them nothing but home.”

ABBACCHIO:

-Did you just grab his tiddies?

-He’s in the middle of telling you off when he sees that you’re asleep, mumbling about how you want him to take you, grinding against him.

-Something feral awakens in him at the sight of you, unknowingly begging for him, and he grabs your wrists, flipping you fast, waking you, and leaning over you, his breath hot against your ear.

-”Dolcezza, Is it okay if I fuck you?”

-The answer is yesssssssss

-Oh bby he is R o u g h. He’ll use his stand to hold your arms above your head and push your legs up so far that your thighs will be pressed against your chest, and he will pound into you with a speed and force that’s almost inhuman

-He will kiss you hard, and long, so that when he pulls away, you’re gasping for air, your lips bruised, your eyes rolled into the back of your head.

-Any qualms he has about being this close to you are out the door. You’ll have deep handprints in your legs from where he was holding them, and the darker the bruise he leaves with his mouth, the happier he is. He doesn’t care where he leaves them, either. Expect some on your chin, your neck, your chest, anywhere he can reach, honestly. But if your lips are bruised, that’s what satisfies him the most.

-You’ll definitely cum more than once, and once he cums, it’s hard, and he’ll pull you flush against him, breathing heavily, burying his face in your shoulder. Tell him it’s okay, because once he’s come down from his high, his fear that he hurt you is overwhelming. He loves you, after all. Reassure him. Hold him close, and don’t let go.

MISTA:

-(Once again Julian laugh) Oh ho ho!

-He’s gonna watch for a minute, but wake you up if the pressure becomes too much for him. He’ll give you a moment to wake up, and then ask you to fuck.

-(Yes yes yes)

-He’s like a mix of Abbacchio and Bucciarati. Rough and kinky, but will literally shower you in praise and affection.

-He likes tugging your hair while taking you from behind (If you have hair. If not, his hands will grip your waist, or reach around to rub your clit/stroke your cock depending.

-He will kiss down your back while leaning over you, making sure to leave little marks that’ll last, but not long

-Definitely makes you cum before he does, but if he can, really enjoys cumming together. To him, it adds to the intimacy of the moment.

-”Oh, Bombolone, do you need me so much that You want me even in your dreams? I’ll wake you each time, I need you more than you know. You are so perfect. You are so wonderful, and adorable, and I love you so much.”

-He will literally not shut the fuck up during sex but it’s okay because it’s all sweet and loving.

JOSEPH:

-Oh jesus christ stroke his ego why dontcha

-if you’ve discussed it beforehand, and you’re into Somnophilia, he’ll fuck you right there. But if not, He’ll take the time to wake you, his ears burning red.

-”Oi, babe, You were holding onto me kinda tight and grinding your hips against my leg. If you want me that bad, say something.”

-He will destroy you. Something about seeing you want him when you’re not even aware of what you’re doing? OOF.

-He also has a bad case of not shutting the fuck up during sex.

-The best remedy to this is to just pull him down into a kiss while he’s snapping his hips against yours. Hold it for as long as possible. It’ll make his heart happy if you’re bold enough to initiate a kiss as well.

-He cums before you but will help you cum as well, whether it be eating you out/blowjob or fingering you/handjob. (If you’re AMAB then he’ll let you return the favor tbh)

-Will shamelessly ask you for a blowjob. If you indulge him, he’s on cloud nine, His hands weaved into your hair, watching your every move as your mouth closes around his cock and your tongue swirls around him. It takes all of his self control not to throat fuck you.

-Once you’ve reached your limit, he’ll help you into the shower and massage wherever’s sore, washing you off with a gentleness that’s a stark contrast to his movements prior.

BONUS GYRO

-When did you end up in his sleeping bag?

-He’s awake before you or Johnny, and he notices you’ve burrowed yourself close to him. You’re also

-Nyo-ho. Oh are you also.

-He’ll shake your shoulder, and once you’re awake, he’ll flash his grill and lean in, whispering in your ear

-”D’you wanna fuck me that bad that you’re doing it in your sleep, doll?”

-Who cares if johnny’s sleeping right over there, with your consent, he’s inside of you faster than anything. He’ll give you a moment to adjust to him, and then start off slow, massaging your hips and thighs, whispering how amazing you are.

-He goes slow, but makes sure he’s down to his full length with every thrust, pressing his lips into the corners of your mouth, then crashing them directly against your lips, not letting you come up for air until your legs are trembling around him.

-He won’t change things up until he hears a “Please”

-That’s his favorite word. If you groan out a “Please, Gyro,” And your voice cracks, oh, are you in for a t r e a t.

-He’ll make you see stars, but shh, don’t get too loud, doll. Johnny’s asleep. If you’re being too loud, he’ll cover your mouth with his hand.

-Please hold onto him. Wrap your arms and legs around him while he fucks you. He loves it so much.

-Once you’ve cum, he tumbles not long after, blurting out something in italian that you can only hope to understand if you don’t speak it. (Hint: It’s praises for you and your body.)

-Once he’s done, he falls back down next to you, pulling you close and pressing his lips to your forehead, deciding that It can be a later start than usual today. Besides, you look so cute curled up against him like that, doll.

#jjba #jojo no kimyou na bouken #jojo's bizarre adventure #jjba headcanons #jjba x reader #Bucciarati x reader #buccellati x reader #abbacchio x reader #mista x reader #fugo x reader #narancia x reader #giorno x reader #trish x reader #joseph x reader #josuke x reader #gyro x reader

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jenomark · 4 years ago

Text

PART 4: KUN, THE HUSBAND

➔Pairing: Kun x Reader (Female) ➔Other Members/ Characters: Brief mention of YangYang ➔Genre: Smut (+ angst, + fluff, + plot) ➔Warnings: oral (M), sexual scene where Kun is a little more drunk than the reader, angst, adultery ➔Word count: 5,994

➔Summary: You don’t know what you do. You don’t even know who you are. Some would call you a whore. Some would refer to you as a sex worker. All of your clients would say you’re damn good at your job.

MASTERLIST

You had ransacked the place. Lucas’ clothes were splayed all over the floor. One of his drawers was on his bed, the other sticking half out of its home. You had looked in his wardrobe, pushing hangers all the way to the end of the metal pole. You were in this sock drawer, you had looked underneath his bed and, eventually, though against your better judgement, you had looked underneath his mattress.

The ring was nowhere to be found. Did you hallucinate the ring? Because it was your worst fear, did you somehow bring it to life and mistake what you had seen? Was it really a key to his apartment the entire time?

You sat on the floor and started folding his clothes. The moment of weakness left you feeling out of control of your own life. Your brain started convincing you that you had every right to be confused. There had been a ring. It was a simple ring, but it should have been yours.

You continued folding his clothes and putting his room back together, the puzzle pieces fitting rightfully in their place. You did not chalk it up to the stress of having to move your life into his, though you were certain that was part of it.

When you were done, you sat on his bed and closed your eyes as the world spun around you. Lucas came home shortly after, and without saying hello, he climbed into bed and laid his body across yours.

You liked to feel pretty for him, not just look pretty. If you felt it inside, it didn’t matter what you wore, or what you smelled like. He hardly complimented you on the way you looked when you weren’t underneath him, but there was something satisfying about doing it for yourself, too. So, you curled your hair, put on a full face of makeup, and slipped into something that would help you look more like a teaching assistant. College sweatshirt? Check. Hair scrunchie around your wrist? Check. Jeans so tight they cut off your circulation but made your ass look fat? Double check.

The hair and makeup was overkill. He would tell you it was too much, that his wife would catch on. What teaching assistant looks sexy at night? He had asked. But you liked going with the narrative of the innocent teaching assistant with a forbidden crush on the teacher. Everyone thought it was cute. Everyone thought it was harmless. You liked his wife underestimating you.

You stood in front of his house in the darkness, your eyes peering into every window with a yellow glow. You could see him in one of those windows, standing at the kitchen sink washing a stain from his shirt. He didn’t see you, but he never really did.

Kun. Married father of two toddlers roughly a year and a half a part. He taught at the university, which, at his young age, was an accomplishment. He could fly a plane. He could drive stick. He knew all the right things to bring on a trip, knew how to ask for what he wanted, even with a language barrier. He was the handsome teacher every student looked up to, the one every faculty member wanted to fuck. Men were jealous of him, of his intelligence, and of how easy it was for him to be respected and imitated. He was a king, and kings could do no wrong.

Once you met him, you knew that looks, especially the good, wholesome ones, were deceiving. Kun had been cheating on his wife since before she got pregnant, but he had never paid for sex until he met you. He considered it noble and somehow better of him. But, all the same, he would kiss her with the same mouth he used to eat your pussy with. Then, his nobleness would pretend to be the best husband and father in the kingdom.

Kun wasn’t the only earner of his house. His beautiful queen of a wife was worth a lot of money, the kind of money passed down through generations of family. Their beautiful, perfect home was mostly because of her. Of course, he tended to the garden and kept them all safe, but she was the boss of the house. Without her, he tried to convince you he wouldn’t be just nothing.

Watching him from the window made your heart ache. He didn’t have to convince you that he was someone, because he had always been someone to you. The money didn’t matter. You had stopped taking his money after the first few times you fucked, anyway.

You took a step forward and watched the lawn light up to reveal a stone path. Kun’s eyes were on you from the window, an intruder walking towards his house. You could see him out of the corner of your eye, his face a picture of warmth and temptation. You walked right up to his front door, with its sign that read: The Qians Live Here, and you rang the doorbell. The music was heavenly, really adding to the feeling that you had stepped into another place and time.

“Hey,” a voice said, “It’s so nice to see you. “

You were face-to-face with Kun’s wife of five years. She was taller than you, statuesque like a runway model. She was pretty, with sharp features and softer, kinder eyes than you’d ever possess. She didn’t look like someone who stayed home with her kids all day long, but then again, you didn’t exactly look like anything less than a girl coming to see her work colleague.

“I’m only stopping in for a little bit.” you said, lifting your books high enough for her to see. “I’m sorry to drag him away from his family at this hour.”

Kun’s wife smiled. “Don’t worry about it. My husband works hard. It’s why I love him.”

She let you inside their home. Right away, you were fighting away the guilt that always rose up your throat like stomach bile. You were the intruder. If this were olden times, there would be worse punishments for you than feeling guilt for fucking someone else’s husband.

If the outside of their home looked too perfect, the inside told a different story. Their home was so cozy and lived in. There were kids toys everywhere, old glasses of iced tea on the table, and an unfolded laundry sitting in a basket by the couch. Through every room downstairs that she brought you through, you could feel how much family meant to her. The feelings were harder to stomach when you smelled the aroma of freshly baked cookies, each chocolate chip baked with love.

“He’s just in the kitchen,” she said, “My clumsy husband decided to shake the ketchup bottle without checking to see if it was closed.”

She said those words like she was admitting something romantic that Kun had done. You chuckled to show her that you were listening, but your eyes were still breathing in the state of the house. You hadn’t been there often, but each time felt more dangerous than the last. It was always a risk playing where you ate, but what Kun wanted, Kun got.

You both stopped in the kitchen. Kun turned around. When he saw you, his eyes lit up. He didn’t try to hide it, just looked at his wife and started telling her about how the stain needed to be cleaned. It was boring talk, so you tuned him out and tried to make your breathing even. In. Out. In. Out.

“Well, take off your shirt and I’ll clean it right now.” she said.

Kun looked like his wife had asked him to get naked in front of his mother-in-law.” That’s not really appropriate.”

His wife batted her hand in front of her face. “I’m sure she’s seen a shirtless man before. Don’t be so shy. Here, take it off and hand it to me.”

You didn’t know if you should avert your eyes or not. Kun taking off his shirt wasn’t necessarily sexual, but seeing him so stripped made you want to launch your body across the kitchen and kiss him until you both fell to the ground. His body was tight and toned. He wasn’t that confident about it, but you thought he should have been. He unbuttoned the shirt and handed it to his wife without looking her in the eyes. She took it and disappeared after serving him a “Now, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” look.

You and Kun stood facing each other for a beat too long. Kun moved his arm to cover part of his stomach. He was going to say something but a little boy walked into the kitchen, calling for his father. Kun walked to the kid and scooped him right up into his arms. Right after, Kun’s other son came running in and told his father that he was “hungy”.

“Dinner is almost done.” Kun said, trying to pick up his other son with the other hand.

You stepped in to help, hoisting Kun’s oldest son into your arms. His son played with your hair and smiled a gummy smile. You had met his kids before, and they were slowly warming up to you. You were terrified of the future where they would try and call you auntie, not really knowing how or why you fit into their lives.

“You’re here!” his eldest son clapped. “Are you eating, too?”

“Maybe I’ll stick around.” you said.

You tried to imagine what the picture of you and a shirtless Kun holding his children would have looked like from the street outside. To people who didn’t know the Qian’s, you probably looked like the mother of his children. You felt excitement growling in the pit of your belly at the image, or maybe it was just hunger. Either way, you really liked the thought of having kids with Kun, even though the thought of motherhood scared the shit out of you.

“Are you staying for dinner?” Kun asked.

Usually, you and Kun would meet in his car around the corner and fuck in the backseat. Only once you saw him in public, so you brought him back to your faux apartment and fucked him on a real bed. Your relationship consisted of sneaking away from his life in this house, never flaunting it so openly in public. But something had changed within Kun lately. He liked toeing the line of danger, liked seeing you in his home with his wife. You thought that maybe he was just getting bored with the whole setup, which brought up a whole lot of questions about which girl he was bored with: you, or his wife.

“What if we had a threesome?” Kun had asked the last time you had shown up, a bag full of fake school supplies in your arms. “My wife would like it. She likes you. She told me the other day she thinks you’re hot.”

“I’m sure she wouldn’t like me fucking her husband, though.” you had said. And I’m not sure I would like that either, is what you didn’t say.

Truthfully, Kun’s wife scared you. She wasn’t an idiot like he sometimes could be. Some part of her had to have known what was going on between you and her husband. Every time you and Kun touched, it was electric. Besides, in their part of town, many bored husbands had affairs. It was her inability to say something that terrified you most. Kun’s insistence that his wife would love to fuck you too felt a little off.

“Should I stay for dinner?” you asked him. “I’m sure my boyfriend would like it if I ate dinner with him.”

Kun winced. He hated Lucas, and you were petty enough to bring him up as a weapon in your discussions. You liked seeing Kun get jealous of your boyfriend. He had no idea what Lucas’ looked like, how your relationship was with him, or if you truly loved him, but it didn’t stop him from begging you to leave him. If anyone got you to leave Lucas, it would have been Kun. You would have definitely left Lucas without thinking about it if Kun was serious about leaving his wife.

“Stay. I want you to stay. ” Kun said. He set his youngest son down in a high chair and buckled him in. “And then after dinner, we can get to work.”

“You know,” his wife said, sailing back into the room. “I think that stain just might come out. You’re in luck.”

Kun took his other child from you, his fingers brushing lightly against your stomach. He set him in his high chair and pinched his cheek after buckling him in. Kun’s wife moved around the room, looking here and there, as if she had forgotten something. She disappeared into the kitchen, banging pots and pans around.

“I can’t stay long.” you said, loud enough so she could hear, too. “I’ve been a little busy, lately. I have to.....get home and do things. Lucas, he misses me when I’m gone.”

The look on Kun’s face made your insides turn to mush. It wasn’t often he would beg you for something, but when he did, it never failed to make you forget who you were, what you were doing, and what you felt whenever he looked at you. You knew it was his way of just getting what he wanted, which, he knew he could get. You were a sucker to give in. Every. Damn. Time.

“Please.” Kun mouthed.

If you could convince yourself that it wasn’t just for the sex, you would greedily sit down at his table and eat with him. If you could believe in the fairytale with ignorance, it would be easier.

Suddenly, you remembered the dream you always had about him at that very table, sitting right by his side like his life really belonged to you. Kun was in most of your dreams, and in your reality, too.

“Nonsense,” Kun’s wife said, flittering out of the kitchen with a large dish of food in her hand and a t-shirt hanging over her shoulder. She put the food down and threw the shirt at Kun to put on. “ Your life can wait. You’re our guest. Stay and eat. I’m sure Lucas will understand why we have to keep you hostage.”

“Yeah,” Kun chimed in, rolling the t-shirt down his body. “Me and the wife don’t get out much, and when we want to, our friends are too busy with their own families to enjoy our company. It’s nice that you’re here in the moment. It’s hard to find friends these days.”

Friend. So, you were not the wife, nor the potential wife. You had somehow found yourself in the friend zone without believing such a zone existed. Not only were you not getting paid for sleeping with him, but there were no other benefits other than heartbreak and the occasional gut belly laugh Kun gave you when he said something ridiculously believable. We could be together, just wait a little longer. We’re meant to be, don’t you feel it?

You didn’t know when you had fallen so deeply in love with him, or how it really worked next to your other feelings. You felt different for Kun as you did for Lucas, and it confused you. Lucas was love, especially in the beginning. He was certainty and marriage, stressless sex and camaraderie. You knew where Lucas fit into your life, square pegs and round holes and all. You knew what boxes he checked. You knew that if you sat down at the dinner table with Lucas, you would never hesitate to ask him to pass you the salt, too scared to feel a flush against your cheeks if his fingers brushed against yours. Kun was anti-everything you signed up for. You didn’t get to control when you saw him, who he was with, or how close you got to be to him without arousing suspicion. He kept you hidden in the backseat, too afraid to even put the overhead light on so that you could find your bra. He was forbidden fruit, and no matter how hard you tried to make sense of your future, you never saw him in it.

The one thing you were sure of, was that Kun made you act recklessly. As you lowered yourself into his chair in his family's home, you dared to look him in the eyes. You get everything you want, don’t you? you asked him with your fiery gaze. You wanted him to know that he was the one who kept you up at night. If you had the chance, you would admit that if the right opportunity came along, you would swap places with his wife in a heartbeat.

Kun sat down in his space, looking very much like your dream of him: perfectly kissable and delightfully fuckable. He looked satisfied with the outcome of the choice he never really gave you. There were times when you felt a little bit like he was taking you for a ride, and that when he was done having his fun, he'd get off and leave you there, hoping for the prospect of love. Kun knew exactly what he was doing to you.

“Good girl.” Kun’s wife said.

You and Kun sat in silence, the kids making so much noise that you couldn’t think straight. His wife set the table full of food and sat down in a huff. You waited for her to say something about no one helping out, but she was far too kind for that. She closed her eyes gently, so thankful for the food you were about to consume. When she opened them, her eyes found yours. You could have been mistaken, but the look she gave you felt like one that could see right through you.

“Dig in.” she said, smiling.

Before you could fill your own plate, Kun was already doing it. Despite not spending a lot of time with him, he knew what foods you liked. You would spend hours in the car post-coital, just reminiscing about life, discussing your likes and dislikes, and genuinely enjoying eachothers company. You admired Kun’s intelligence and you think he liked that almost as much as when people at the university did it. He would puff out his bare chest in the backseat and take pride in whatever wise words he fed you. Reacting like the lovesick school girl was never your intention, but Kun brought it out of you in a way that made you feel unlike yourself. Even knowing that he truly paid attention to what you said made your heart pound uncontrollably. It was like you were under a spell.

“She’s a big girl Kun,” his wife said. “I’m sure she can do that herself. You’re such a good dad, baby, but not everyone needs you to coddle them.”

“Sorry,” he said. “I’m used to doing it for the kids. Forgive me. Can I get you some wine to drink?”

It was against your better judgement, but you agreed. Kun got up from his seat, the visual of him attending to you so carefully not lost on his wife. You looked for signs of jealousy or anger, but she had a sickly sweet smile stuck to her face. Somehow, you thought it’d be better if she launched herself across the table and choked you out. It would be kinder than what you deserved.

“He’s a good man.” she said. “Always helping out.”

You nodded. “Thank you for the food.”

“Of course,” she said. She looked towards the kitchen to make sure Kun wasn’t going to walk through the door, and then she leaned in to you. “I know how hard it is for you.”

You lowered your fork. “Hard? What’s hard?”

“Here is the wine!” Kun said, holding a bottle and two wine glasses. He set them on the table and started pouring the deep red liquid. “It’s a good year, too.”

You looked at his wife but she had leaned back and acted like neither of you had spoken to each other. Kun handed you a glass and kept one for himself, taking a small sip of his before setting it back onto the table. You must have looked at his wife quizzically because she patted her stomach and told you she wouldn’t be drinking tonight.

“We haven’t told anyone yet,” she began, looking at Kun lovingly. “But we’re expecting another baby! So, no wine for me.”

You looked down at her small belly. She didn’t look pregnant to you. You almost thought it was a joke until you looked at Kun for confirmation. He could hardly look into your eyes and was staring at your forehead like it was the most interesting thing in the world.

“Congratulations. “ you said, swallowing the lump in your throat. You took a long pull of the wine, hoping that it would make the lump go down faster.

“Thank you,” she said. “We’re hoping for a girl. I feel a little outnumbered here.”

She kept talking, but you tuned her voice out. You felt sick to your stomach. The wine didn’t help. You drank your glass and poured another, drawing concerned looks from Kun. The fuzziness after only a few sips was felt. You pushed the food around on your plate and thought about how to get the fuck out of there. You wiped sweat from your brow, no doubt messing up your makeup. You wanted to cry, but there would be no way to explain the tears. Luckily for you, Kun spoke up and his wife fell quiet.

“Shit.” he said, throwing his napkin down on the table.

“Is everything okay, baby?” his wife asked.

Kun looked at you. “I forgot about the deadline. Shit, honey,” he said turning back to his wife. “May we excuse ourselves for a few minutes so we can go over the plan? Dinner is so lovely and I’d hate to miss it. I’m an idiot, truly.”

With her hand on her pregnant belly, his wife nodded her head. “Sure. Is there anything I can help with?”

You poured a little more wine into your glass. Kun took the bottle from you and carefully set it back down on the table. You drank the wine so fast. You didn’t care that all sets of eyes were looking at you like you were unmanageable.

You had to hand it to her. She was good at acting. You thought there was no way she didn’t find Kun’s interruption believable. Yet, she smiled gracefully and excused her husband like he was the noble king he saw himself as, ready to change the world of academia with some plan that didn’t exist.

“I don’t think so. It will only take a few minutes,” he said, standing up.

God damn him, you thought. Damn his handsome face with their dimples and those beautiful eyes.

You stood too fast and felt a little dizzy. His wife was staring at you, her face no longer graceful. One of Kun’s kids held your finger before Kun grabbed your elbow and whisked you away, but you weren’t sure which one.

“Are you okay?” he asked, reaching the top of the stairs. “You drank a lot in less than five minutes. The last time I saw someone drinking like that was at a university party and I had to call an ambulance.”

“I’m fine.” you said, feeling irritated.

He took your hand and helped you up the last stair. You had been upstairs a few times, the familiar new baby smell hitting your nostrils before you could scrunch your nose in disgust. Kun held your hand limply, his only purpose to lead you in the direction that was safe from prying eyes.

“What are we really doing?” you whispered, desperately wanting to add a curse or two in there.

The wine was really fucking you up. You were never one to hold your alcohol that well. One glass was enough to help you along, but two glasses had you throwing yourself to the wolves. You slid your arm up Kun’s, feeling the light hairs on his skin. He turned around to kiss you, careful not to make too much sound.

“What we always do.” he said.

“This isn’t your car.” you said.

Kun turned on the bathroom light. You blinked and closed your eyes because the light hurt. Kun kissed you, pressing your body aggressively up against a wicker shelf. You were so horny that you would have had him bent you over the sink without any real foreplay, but Kun had other ideas.

“We can’t do anything too loud.” he said.

“She already knows what we do anyway.” you said, looking down at your feet.

Kun held your chin and made you look him in the eyes. “No, she doesn’t.”

He kissed you more softly before holding the top of your head and pushing you down to your knees. Kun took out his cock and held it in front of you. You looked up at him and laughed before taking him in your mouth. He swayed a little, which made you realize that you weren’t the only person who was drunk. Kun was just better at covering things up in his own house than you were.

“I think this plan might work after all.” Kun said.

Sucking Kun’s cock was always interesting. Because you were confined to certain places, he had to force himself to keep quiet. He’d bite on his knuckles to stifle the moans. When he was really far gone, he’d sing a song underneath his breath, keeping his voice even so that his moaning level didn’t ride up.

You took him out of your mouth. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” he said.

Kun took the back of your head and held it. He fucked your face slowly, pushing his hips forward and pulling them back again. He gathered your hair in his fist and kept thrusting. You kept your mouth still, your teeth tucked behind your lips. A few times he made you gag, and each time, he would go softer in a way that made you feel like he cared about you.

When he came, he kept his cock stilled in your mouth. He looked at you lovingly, kind of how you always wish he looked at you when you weren’t having sex. You swallowed his load and let him help you to your feet. Holding either side of your shoulders, he leaned forward and kissed your forehead.

“You’re having a baby.” you said.

Kun was silent. He let you go and pulled up his pants. There was always a brief moment after sex where Kun felt ashamed that he had done anything with you. When he was paying you for sex, the shame emanating from him made you feel icky. When you told him to stop paying you, the shame lessened a little, but he still had the balls to stare you in the face like you were the only one to blame.

“I thought you said you were going to leave her.” you said, trying to get him to react. “Or am I just imagining things again?”

You were only bringing it up because you were drunk. You knew it, and so did Kun. In fact, it was a thought you had never brought up, just to save yourself from the embarrassment. You didn’t want him to know that you were hoping you and him would have a future, that you were clinging to the hope that one day you would leave Lucas and he’d leave his wife, and you’d finally get to live that dream life.

Kun tried kissing your forehead again but you pushed him back. Feeling rejected, he said, “Sometimes people have babies to save marriages.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel okay?”

“Please don’t do this now,” he said. “You’ve been drinking. I’ve been drinking. I thought-”

“-you thought? “ you said. “You thought what? That you would invite me here and we’d fuck in your bed while she put the kids to sleep like last time? That we would roll around in your sheets like the fucking teaching assistant and the adulterer? “

“Keep your voice down, please.” Kun said, stepping closer to you.

You did as you were told and kept quiet. You shook your head, the tears stinging your eyes. Everything felt like it was crashing down and you didn’t know how to stop it. The wine made you feel like you had to address everything at once, and if you didn’t, Kun wouldn’t ever understand how you felt. You needed to let him know that you couldn’t fuck him if his wife was pregnant.

“I can’t do this anymore.” you said, turning towards the bathroom door. You felt like you couldn’t breathe, like all your mistakes were finally grasping your throat, ready to squeeze the light from your lungs.

Kun grabbed your arm but you pulled away. “Like, ever?”

You barrelled out of his bathroom and ran down the steps. Kun followed behind, his footsteps softening only when he saw his wife. You made it to the front door of his house. All you cared about was getting outside and breathing in the fresh air. His wife stepped in front of you before you could reach for the handle.

She raised her hand. You thought she would slap you across your face, so you winced. Instead, she wiped the corner of your mouth with her thumb. “You have a little bit of my husband left on your lip.”

She moved out of the way, you reached for the handle, and swung the door open. The sight of Kun’s plush green glass was the last thing you saw before you blacked out.

No one was at the table in your dream. You could smell the toast, see little wisps of smoke coming from the slots in the toaster. You heard the click of your heels as you walked around the linoleum floor, looking for your husband in his crisp tie. On the table, the newspaper laid unread.

You dreamed different scenarios where you were alone. You were running from something in one, the edge of a black cliff and your feet on the edge, crumbling rocks below. In others, you were simply yelling into a dark void.

When you woke, you were sweaty and tired, your eyes barely able to stay open. You should have never taken a single sip of wine. You could still feel it in your system as strong as ever, securing you to the car seat you were in, and swirling the traffic light colors in your line of vision.

“You’re awake.” Kun said.

“You shouldn’t be driving.” you whispered.

“I’m not drunk.” he said.

There were no sounds, not even traffic melee. Kun’s hands were on the steering wheel in the most dad position ever. You could see that his sleeves were rolled up and he was wearing an expensive watch. Time’s up. You didn’t want to look at his face, so you looked out of the window. You focused on breathing evenly. In. Out. In. Out.

“I didn’t tell you because I didn’t know how,” he said. “The baby wasn’t planned. She told me and I wanted to cry. This isn’t how I imagined my life.”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” you said. “It’s still your life. You don’t have to explain anything to me.”

Kun’s hand was on your knee. You felt physically ill, but you placed your hand on top of his, anyway. You didn’t want to feel alone, driftless and pointless. You held his hand until he parked his car out front of your apartment.

“Can we go upstairs and talk?” he asked.

“And fuck?”

You looked at him. He looked down at his lap, a million apologies stopping at his lips. He looked at you and inhaled, the exhale of air whistling through his nose. “We can do whatever you want, but I’d like to talk first.”

You moved his hand from your lap and got out of the car. You didn’t want to be there in front of your apartment. Lucas had dropped off empty cardboard boxes the other day, so the floors were littered with reminders that you would no longer own that life. There was still the real apartment you had shown Hendery, but that place was feeling further and further away by the day.

Kun stayed in the car, but his eyes were on you as you made your way to his window. You were walking with fear that you’d fall, which should have been what you did the moment you had met him.

“I’d still like to see you.” he said.

You laughed. “And how would that work? I’d come over as your wife is nursing your third child, you meet me outside and fuck me in the back of your car, one leg in your sons car seat, and the other stepping on old, unwashed baby bottles. That’s not the sexiest thing I’ve ever heard, Kun.”

Kun got out of the car. You backed up into the middle of the sidewalk. He went to kiss you, but you backed up even further.

“We work well together, you and I.” he said. “Don’t you feel that?”

“We don’t work at all,” you said. “I think I’m seeing that more clearly now. Sad that it had to take me getting piss drunk, but...”

You wanted to yell at him, to make sure he knows what kind of promises he had broken. You weren’t even sure he remembered what he had told you late at night in the back of his car. You didn’t want him to think for one second that he ever had the upper hand. You were done making a fool of yourself for the night. Let someone else be the jester.

“Your wife knows.” you said, throwing your hands up in the air.

“I don’t think she cares.” he said.

“I care.”

Kun shifted his weight to his other foot. “How much?”

“Excuse me?” you said. You suddenly remembered Hendery and the money he had given you the last time you saw him. You closed your eyes and prayed that Kun wasn’t saying what you thought he was.

“How much money? I’ll pay you.”

It might as well have been the slap in the face his wife failed to deliver. Deep down, there was always a part of you that knew you could never hold him for very long. He was like smoke, curling away from your fingers the moment you tried. You knew Kun was never as in love with you as you were with him, but you liked to think he cared about you enough to consider that you were a real person with real emotions.

“It’s not about the money.” you said.

“Well, then, what is it about? Help me understand.” he said, throwing up his hands like you did a few seconds ago.

The truth was delicious when you were drunk. You tasted it on your tongue, all the words you’d had to bite back. You wanted to spit it back into his face. You stood on the pavement thinking of all the things you could do when your cell phone rang.

You answered it, turning away from Kun so you could concentrate. “Hello?”

Hearing his voice was like an antidote to all of the poison filling your lungs. Kun watched your face for any signs that it was Lucas, but he knew you’d never smile so brightly for him. You held the phone closely to your ear and listened to the voice on the other end.

“I’d like to see you.” you said. “YangYang, can you pick me up now?”

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lauralestrange7 · 4 years ago

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𝓐𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓲𝓼𝓶 | 𝓢𝓲𝓻𝓲𝓾𝓼 𝓑𝓵𝓪𝓬𝓴| (Part 7)

The motto of the Lestrange family is "𝓒𝓸𝓻𝓿𝓾𝓼 𝓸𝓬𝓾𝓵𝓾𝓶 𝓬𝓸𝓻𝓿𝓲 𝓷𝓸𝓷 𝓮𝓻𝓾𝓲𝓽" which would when literally translated in English would mean "a crow will not pull out the eye of another crow." Referring to the complete solidarity amongst a group of like-minded people regardless of the consequences or condemnation. Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 8

Part 9

Part 10

Part 11

Part 12

Part 13

Part 14

Flashback

A ten-year-old Laura hopped outside the carriage, after her brothers Rodolphus Lestrange, a tall and ambitious nineteen-year-old, and an arrogant fifteen-year-old Rabastan Lestrange. "Why do we even have to come? why do I have to come? I could've just stayed home" he groaned kicking a rock that rolled away. Rodolphus glared at his younger brother "Because you were asked to" he said through gritted teeth "Now not a word, Rabastan" he added before knocking on the door of The Number 12 Grimmauld Place. Laura stepped closer to Rabastan as she looked up at the handsome house.

They heard the sound of heels clicking against the hard floor, the sound neared closer and closer, Walburga Black opened the door. Her cold grey eyes didn't seem very welcoming as she scanned the lot, she then stepped back and gestured for them to come in. Rodolphus was the first to walk in, in a gentlemanly manner as he took the older lady's hand pressing a kiss at the back of it. "Father said he would show up before dinner, mother's been feeling a little under the weather since this morning," he explained. The lady just nodded no sign of any sympathy in her cold eyes, before confirming "But she will show up, won't she?" "Yes of course," Rodolphus assured the older women with a smile of fake assurance, which let me tell you no one could believe to be false, aye it is the Lestrange's charm they've got quite the silver tongue.

Then there was a sound of someone coming down the stairs, and soon Laura spotted Bellatrix Lestrange beautifully sporting a black lace dress. Rodolphus smiled at her, and a genuine one this time, he walked towards her handing her the bouquet he had brought for her. Which she took smiling a little, she then gave Rabastan and Laura a blank look. Laura had never talked to Bellatrix ever and Rabastan had once told her that she was a bit of a cuckoo. Bellatrix then took Rodolphus' hand guiding him up the stairs, Walburga couldn't help but roll her eyes but then she looked over at Laura and Rabastan. "Right then, you two," she said as she walked them towards the sitting room and gestured towards the couch "Have a seat," she said and they did. "Would you like anything else?" she said whipping her wand out and pointing it to the fireplace which instantly lit up with roaring flames. "No thank you," Rabastan said as Laura politely shook her head sitting back.

"Aunt Walburga I've checked on the house-elves in the kitchen, everything's alright down there." A beautiful brunette walked towards them, Laura's mouth hung open in amazement; the girl looked just like her about-to-be sister-in-law, her features just somewhat softer and kinder than those of her elder sister's. The brunette smiled warmly as she greeted them "Oh hey Rabastan", she seemed like the most welcoming and nice resident of the house that they have met so far. "Hey," Rabastan said smiling back, Walburga looked at the two and then said "Oh good then you can keep them company, I've got work to be done" and with that, she walked off.

"Mother!" a voice yelled as a boy ran down the stairs "Bella took a boy inside her room and shut the door in my face, I don't think she has any good intentions, I have a funny feeling about it" he continued as he descended the stairs. Laura looked up at the boy, who just landed with a jump from the stairs, he looked about her age. He stopped in his tracks when he saw Rabastan sitting beside Andromeda on the couch, his mouth was the shape of an 'O'. He walked towards them then tapped on Andromeda's shoulder who looked around at him, the boy then whispered something in her ear and Andromeda nodded in response. Rabastan sat up "You must be the eldest son of Orion Black?" he said; he never knew what was the right thing to say at the right time. The boy seemed a little offended that the stranger sitting in his house and on his couch; well technically it neither was his house and nor his couch, but you get the point, didn't know his name, HIS name?! He looked at him "Yes I'm Sirius Orion Black, who are you?" he asked as he proudly placed his hands on his hips, emphasizing on the 'you'. Rabastan chuckled softly before doing a little bow "I, Sirius Orion Black am Rabastan Lestrange son of Reinhard Lestrange" he said and then gesturing his hand towards Laura he continued "And this sir, is my sister Laura Lestrange". Andromeda laughed at Rabastan's dramatic gesture, whilst Sirius had only now noticed Laura, he looked at her for a hard minute then walked back upstairs after giving them a suspicious look.

Laura looked down at her shoes once he was gone, and Andromeda resumed her conversation with Rabastan, Sirius went to Regulus' room and peeked inside, Regulus was looking outside the window sitting on the windowsill. "Psst brother" Sirius trying to get the latter's attention, Regulus looked at him raising an eyebrow "There's a little girl downstairs," Sirius said walking in. Both Sirius and Regulus never really saw many kids of their age, Regulus climbed off the sill "What's her name?" he asked eagerly. "Laura, she's sitting downstairs with her brother and 'Dromeda on the couch. Wanna see?" Sirius said. It was indeed a tempting offer, Regulus thought carefully but finally gave in as he nodded.

Sirius gestured his brother to follow him as he walked out of the room and towards the top of the staircase, he carefully peeked down and caught a glimpse of the girl, who was now swinging her legs gently, looking bored. Sirius looked back at his brother and gave him a thumbs-up, Regulus took a deep breath. Whenever he and Sirius did something they were not supposed to; it made him feel daring and scared altogether. Regulus smiled nervously at his brother before he too peeked downstairs and towards the couch. Laura felt someone watching her so she instantly looked up, her eyes found a pair of greyish blue ones looking at her. Laura's face lit up as she laughed softly on catching the boy secretively spying at her, Regulus' pale face on the other hand was flushed with embarrassment as he was very embarrassed indeed, on being caught staring at a girl. He stepped back out of the girl's sight and frowned when he saw Sirius was shaking with laughter.

End of Flashback

Want to read it on Wattpad? No problem here you go

All the characters (except Laura Lestrange) and places mentioned in this story belong to J K Rowling. So I’ve posted a few chapters of this stories on Wattpad, but I’ve got a lot of it already written down, I’ll try to post any new chapters on Tumblr as soon as I can. Please reblog, it would be very appreciated and my requests are open.

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khazadspoon · 5 years ago

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Jump Rope

Well I got reminded of that post about playing jump-rope with Zidian so I just did it. At least I wrote it. SO have a slightly emotional but cathartic thing that happened in the space of half an hour.

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He has been trying to be better in the past year. Trying to be kinder, gentler, softer when talking to Jin Ling. He knows he has failed the boy by being as harsh as he has been for most of his life.

So when Jin Ling asks to practice with Zidian he doesn't refuse. Jin Ling is surprised but grateful, accepts his teaching with that same sharp focus Yanli tried to hide but never really could. It hurts to see some days, but it is worth it for the joy on his nephew's features when the whip strikes its target without fault.

And, after a few lessons, even a hug or two as thanks, he starts to think maybe things are going to be alright.

Then Zidian is missing.

He wakes and knows someone has been in his room. The door is ever so slightly open, his books and scrolls are just a little out of place, and there is a smell of dog. That only leaves Jin Ling as the culprit and he can't help but wonder why the boy would take Zidian instead of just asking him to-

Laughter trickles in from the courtyard, the one only family and close guests have access to. Jiang Cheng is on guard despite the happy sound, still cautious about letting anyone near his home even though it has been the better half of two decades since it was destroyed. He throws on a robe, hastily slips on his boots and ventures outside. He keeps to the sides, hugs the walls as though this isn't his home and he hasn't been woken by theft and laughter.

What he sees strikes his heart in a multitude of ways.

The first is “I'll kill the little shit” as he spots Jin Ling, Zidian on his finger, the loose end of the whip secured round a tree across the courtyard.

The second is “he is actually quite skilled” as his nephew swings the whip round in large arches, controlled and precise. Better than he himself had been at that age.

The third is “why didn't we think of that...”

A gaggle of teenage boys, some in crisp white, some in red or blue, some in purple, Jin Ling the only one in gold, are gathered to watch as Lan Jingyi bounces happily in the ring Zidian makes. He jumps with a burst of laughter each time it comes to his feet, ducks his head as the crackle of energy gets too close to his hair, and jumps out when it becomes a little too dangerous.

The next to try their luck is a girl, one from his own sect, and he makes a mental note to find out who she is later as she deftly jumps in and plays the game with ease. She even manages to tuck into a ball between jumps, skipping on one foot then another, earning gasps and claps as she spins and dances. It is impressive, to say the least.

Lan Sizhui steps to take a turn and a loud voice cuts in.

“Ah ah ah! Not before me, A-Yuan” the voice cries, jubilant to all ears but his own. He hears the worry in that tone and knows the expression on Wei Wuxians face before it comes into view. Of course he would be involved.

Wei Wuxian strolls towards the arch of purple energy with the slightest hint of trepidation on his face. They have both felt Zidian's sting and the pain lingers in the memory far longer than on the skin. Jiang Cheng watches as Jin Ling hesitates, the arch slowing just for a moment before they share a look of understanding. It stings to see, but less than it had this time a year ago. It was… nice to see his family coming back together, small as it might be.

“Alright. Now watch how the experts do it.”

His idiot brother steps, jumps, hops, and-

Falls flat on his face, the portion of his robes on his backside sizzling slightly as Zidian connects with a graze.

Jin Ling retracts the weapon, concerned and red faced, while the other kids gasp and try to stifle their laughter.

Jiang Cheng does no such thing.

He laughs, loud and unabashed, the sound foreign to his ears after so long, but it feels beyond good. His chest heaves as he enters the courtyard, pointing shakily at his brother sprawled on the ground and pouting up at him. He grips his sides, sure the pain will kill him while tears roll down his cheeks.

Wei Wuxian huffs at him. “Jiang Cheng! Stop laughing!” He moans, pointing up at him.

Jiang Cheng shakes his head and reaches out, pulls his brother up by his hand and thinks maybe he isn't laughing now. The tears still come but they aren't as bitter this time. After all the crying he has done, it's nice to not feel broken when it happens now. He hugs his brother, tighter than is needed, and he knows the young gaggle of kids are looking at them in confusion (except Jin Ling who has grown so much since becoming a leader, his posture straight and proud but able to bend and show humility, able to accept he isn't always the strongest or smartest). They cling to one another, and he can hear the sniffles from Wei Wuxian even as he hears his own.

He lifts his face from Wei Wuxian's shoulder, extricates himself from his brother's grip and glares at the kids halfheartedly. “Alright, show's over! Next time you try to use a powerful weapon so carelessly, I will personally kick each and every one of your asses back to where you came from. Got it?” He bites. It sounds too soft even to his own ears, but the disciples all flush and lower their heads, bowing to him respectfully.

They begin to leave and he grabs the back of Jin Ling's collar.

“I- I'm sorry, uncle,” Jin Ling starts, his lips in a pout and he looks so much like his father-

Wei Wuxian claps them both on the back and tugs them into his sides. “No harm done. Except to me, which I think is more acceptable to our great Sect Leader here.”

“You-!” Jiang Cheng swats at his brother's arm but doesn't let the sting of the jibe get to him. He can see from Wei Wuxian's face it was an unintended sting. “Just… ask me next time, alright? You're skilled and improving with Zidian, but it is still dangerous. You need supervision for things like this.”

Jin Ling nods once and his lips curve up in a smile. “Okay.”

Moments later they are both squawking as Wei Wuxian ruffles their hair in tandem, laughing as their hands come up to bat him away. “And what's with all this hair being down this morning? Do you two have no sense of decency? Get back to your rooms and get dressed properly!”

He sounds so much like Madam Yu that Jiang Cheng feels his spine straighten and his face go ashen. “Yes-” he begins, before scowling and chasing his already running brother. “Wei Wuxian!”

He is doing better, now. The anger in his chest is still real, still potent and painful, but he knows how to temper it. His family is growing, there is more than just revenge and searching for answers to fill his time. The world is changing for the better and Jiang Cheng is changing with it.

#jiang cheng #the untamed #wei wuxian #jin ling #mdzs #playing jump rope with zidian #i want them to have happy times and this is one of those ways

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iwantutobehapppier · 6 years ago

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Convalescence

This is the final part of Just Ask series. Read before you continue: Just Ask, You Belong, Mine and A Habit

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader, Bucky x Reader if you squint eyes

Summary: Three months since everyone came back from the snap. You find yourself living your life out in seclusion. Trying to manage your life’s new challenges until an unlikely visitor comes to set in motion the end or maybe the beginning?

Warnings: Endgame spoilers for sure, cunnilingus, and cursing. 18 an older only, do not read if under the age of 18. This isn’t for everyone, if any of these situations bother you please read no further.

Word Count: 8,393 *Shit got out of control okay?*

A/N: This wont be super smutty in fact the smut that is there is kind of soft. Meh I am trying a softer happier ending than I had first written. This would not have taken so long except I was trying to cover some time line plus I wrote 3 different endings. Maybe one day I’ll share the other two.

You turned your head out the giant bay window laying in the perfect temperature bubble bath. The night sky was gorgeous, being out in the mountains allowing every star to shine and twinkle it’s brightest. Soft sigh escaped your lips as you looked at your pruned hands, maybe it was time to get out but having time to yourself was so rare lately.

You walked into your room patting your hair dry, a sad smile tugged at your lips as your gaze fell on the picture of you, Tony, and a very pregnant Pepper decorating one of your bookshelves. After you left the compound you came to Tony seeking solace, he never made you tell him what happened but certainly made his guesses. You played midwife to Pepper as thanks and getting the gift of seeing Tony in a way you never thought, fatherhood.

It wasn’t until a year or so later that he helped you find the land and build a paradise of your own. You wanted to stay with them more than anything but the risk of Steve and everything else was too much so you took the chance to go into full seclusion. When Tony told you the plan three months ago to reverse the snap it took all your restraint not to help but you didn’t have the luxury of a spouse like Tony did. No you had to do everything on your own, not that you regretted a single moment.

Tony had given his life for everyone else’s, who knew he’d make that ultimate sacrifice for everyone but truly it was for Morgan. She was his second chance, and what beautiful second chance she was. You had attended the funeral but only after certain arangements were made. You could feel Steve’s eyes on you the entire time as you stood beside Happy. It wasn’t until you were talking with Bucky after everything had winded down that he finally approached you.

“Steve made me come, I don’t think Tony would have wanted me here,” Bucky confessed uncomfortable at the whole situation and feeling under dressed. You patted his flesh arm smiling up at him.

“I don’t think it matters, you’re here more for Steve than anything.” He nodded in agreement, his focus shifting to something behind you. Looking back you could Steve making his way towards the two of you. Taking a few deep breaths to calm yourself, while you knew this was bound to happen seeing him again left your emotions raw and bubbling at the surface. You would keep composure after all it was Tony’s funeral and you would not make a scene even if Tony himself would have found it funny.

“Captain Rogers,” you spoke even toned, Steve’s brow furrowing. There was a silence that settled between the two of you but neither of you breaking eye contact.

“I’m going to go…” Bucky started and clapped his hands together “anywhere but here.” walking off before you could persuade him to stay.

“You look great” “It’s good to see you,” speaking over each other then abruptly stopping with an awkward laugh. You gestured for him to go first but ever the gentleman he refused. “You first.”

“I was just saying it’s good to see you,” you smiled softly up at him, his brow unfurrowing for the first time since he walked up. His features kinder than they had been in many years, he looked happy again you noticed. The warmth you felt in your heart couldn’t be helped; you only wanted him to be happy. He started with saying your name, it had been so long since anyone said your name the way he did. You found the way your heart fluttered bothersome.

“You look great, better than ever.” He took your left hand but froze as his fingers felt the ring. “I guess the years have been kind to you, generous even.” He brought your hand up and looked at the simple one diamond silver ring. “Is he to thank for your glow?” you blushed at his words feeling senseless as you did.

“You could say that,” you kept it vague knowing full well the ring was a lie, it was just easier in the end to keep up the facade. Even though part of you longed to tell him everything you knew nothing good would come of it. He squeezed your hand with a painful smile before releasing.

“I hope he gives you everything.” The meaning behind his words not missed by you at all, “Is he-“ Steve paused looking away from you, “Is he why you didn’t join in the fight against Thanos?”

“Um, well that-” Thor called your name out walking up to you with Clint and a huge smile on Thor’s face. It had been years since you had seen each other. A laugh bubbled up from your throat as Thor picked you up and swung you around. With that Steve was gone and you were saved by the God of Thunder from having to lie.

“Where in the nine-realms have you been?” Thor sat you down, barely noticing Steve’s departure but Clint watched him walk away with interest. “We could have used your skill on the battlefield. I know I would have loved to fight along your side once more!” You were not able to stop smiling at Thor’s booming voice, not realizing how much you had missed everyone.

“Well I’m afraid my battle days are long behind me,” Thor frowned but only for a moment he hand resting on your shoulder gently. “Then rest easy my dear friend. I hope you have found your peace.” He squeezed your shoulder for a moment.

“We shall have to drink and catch up before we go our separate ways once more.” You were going to refuse Thor’s offer but he was walking off towards Banner and Steve talking to one another. Your heart squeezed seeing the three of them together knowing Tony should be right there.

“When are you going to stop lying about the ring?” Clint’s question shook you out of your thoughts.

“Excuse me?” Clint smirked at your attempts to play dumb.

“Listen you can fool them,” his hand gestured over to the three, “All day long but you and I both know you could never lie like…” he wouldn’t say her name would he? You pulled him into a hug, at first he was too shocked but melted into your embrace wrapping his arms around you.

“I-” your words caught in your throat his arm tightened around you and the tears began to fall, rubbing your face into his shoulder you could feel Clint take in a shuttering breath.

“They gave their lives so we could have ours,” Clint’s voice was so soft and quivery but you heard him. Steve was watching worrying his lip as you began to cry and almost went towards you before Banner grabbed his shoulder.

“When are you going back to wherever it is you are now?” Clint asked once you both pulled apart wiping your respect eyes.

“Pretty soon, I can’t be gone for too long,” Clint raised an eyebrow in question but you let it go unanswered.

“I suppose I can’t ask too much I understand wanting to keep things to yourself,” you smiled at his words; you weren’t sure how you could leave this bunch again.

“Before I go I promise I’ll let you know where you can find me if the need arises.” Clint pulled you into a playful hug messing with your hair at your whining of him being too sappy.

You curled into your big bed, the past still dancing around in your mind as you slept.

It was the following morning of your evening spent reflecting on the past that a very adamant small hand was furiously shaking you.

“Mom,” the whisper which was not truly a whisper pulled you out of your dreamless sleep.

“Mom.” The voice rose this time with an annoyed inflection. You rolled over to see the bright sky blue eyes peering at you under a head of messy long golden blonde hair.

“Olivia, why are you up already?”

“Because the sun is out duh,” her sass too much this early, you grabbed her and pulled her over you to tickle her. She shrieked then giggled trying to get free herself of your grip.

“You going to sass your mom huh?” you jeered, Olivia continuing to struggle free.

“Mom, there’s a man though.” You abruptly stopped to look down at her in confusion. “What man?”

“At the door,” You sat up straight at her words, panic starting to set in.

“You didn’t let him in did you?” trying to sound calm as can be to not worry your sweet little girl.

“No” she dragged the no out, smiling up at you. You patted her head while kissing her forehead.

“Well why don’t you stay here while mommy gets dressed and meets this man?” Olivia nodded enthusiastically at you. Going to your bedside table she used the interface of the house turning the TV on in your room to cartoons while you got dressed.

“He’s got a shiny arm,” your daughter spoke absentmindedly staring at the T.V.

“What was that honey?” pulling your shirt over your head.

“Man at the door. His arm it’s all shiny.” You gulped, oh great that could definitely only be one person after all. You leaned over and kissed her on the forehead again.

“Stay upstairs,” you went towards the bedroom door and turned around “Don’t rot your brain.”

“Uh-hu” never taking her eyes off the T.V. you rolled your eyes at your four year old as you made your way downstairs to the front door of your mountain cottage.

You could see his outline through the door, and yes the shiny arm. Well you couldn’t just stand there forever and it was foolish to think the Winter Soldier wouldn’t find you. He more than likely pressured the last person who knew of your whereabouts outside of Pepper. Even Bucky wouldn’t harass a widow. Poor Clint.

Quickly you opened the door, leaning against the frame in attempts to obstruct his view for inside.

“Now how did you find yourself all the way out here?” Bucky turned around and smiled brightly at you.

“You know how it goes; you take a wrong turn here and then miss your exit, bam you’re in the mountains at the front door of your best friend’s ex.” You snorted in response.

“Let’s cut to the chase, Steve send you to find me? Pretty sure I told him to never do so.”

“You get divorced?” He ignored you in turn asking his own question throwing you off. “Huh?” He nodded his head to your hand against resting the door frame, you cursed under your breath forgetting to put the fake wedding ring on before answering the door.

“Though I would think if you had been married and living out here where you clearly spend enough time outside to get a bit of a tan there should be a line.” Your eyes narrowed at his deduction.

“Did Steve send you?” You gritted out between clenched teeth.

“Steve is gone,” your eyebrows raised. “G-gone?” tears pricked your eyes.

“Well not like that – at least I don’t think so,” He trailed off looking over your head, quickly standing on your tiptoes trying to block his field of vision. “A lot of dishes in that sink for one person though.” His voice coming off like he was talking to himself.

“I’m lazy and don’t always want to do the dishes,” he smirked down at you. “If there was one thing you and Steve definitely had it common it was being very clean. No I suspect those are dishes from last night.” Your eyes narrowed, having enough of this game of clue.

“So, Steve is gone but not gone like what?” You tried to steer the two of you back on topic.

“Time travel stuff, its way beyond me, he went to take the stones back and never came back. Pissed Sam off, that was funny. I’m thinking he went back to the 1940’s.” He paused looking down at you with a side smirk, resting a hand on his stomach.

“I’m hungry, got any of your famous banana pancakes? Steve would not shut up about those most mornings”

“Anana Pancakes!” Olivia cheered from the top of the stairs, your eyes widened with fear looking up at Bucky who just kept smirking at you.

“Now who is that little voice I hear?” You groaned, it was inevitable now, stepping into the house you let Bucky through. His eyes went straight to find the source of the voice up the stairs but whatever he thought he was going to see was not the reality of it all.

He breathed in deep and stood still, those blue eyes unmistakable, and blonde hair shining as the morning sun bounced off it through the windows. He looked back to you, then back at your sweet little toddler heading down the stairs one step at a time begging for pancakes.

“Weren’t you supposed to stay upstairs and watch cartoons,” you gave Olivia a side eye but it softened at her gap toothed smile.

“Yeah but pancakes?” You groaned and picked Olivia up as she cheered knowing you were giving in.

Bucky followed behind still silent, watching every move and noise Olivia made. You sat her down on the counter and began to pull out all the needed ingredients for ‘anana pancakes’.

It wasn’t until you were mixing the batter together that Bucky seemed to finally come out of his stupor. “Did Steve know?”

You looked back to Olivia who was humming along to a tune in her head watching your mixing intently. “Honey could you go outside for a bit? Mommy wants to talk with her friend while she makes pancakes. I’ll give you extra bananas if you do.” Olivia nodded her head in vigorous agreement.

“Bye momma, bye shiny man!” She waved while making her way outside, Bucky giving a baffled half wave. Once you felt she was a safe distance outside you continued.

“No, he didn’t. I didn’t even know until 6 months after I left. Tony and Pepper pushed me to take a test and there it was something I thought I’d never have in my life.” You chuckled lightly, “Tony made some joke about warrior super soldier sperm.” Shaking your head somberly at the thought of Tony, an ache settling in your chest.

“I didn’t want him to know, Tony struggled keeping it to himself but I made him promise to never say anything. I left before Steve could ever come around to find out. He was in a bad place and while I know he never meant to hurt me I couldn’t put us at risk.” You began to heat the griddle.

“Part of me wanted to keep her from him as some sort of punishment, he took everything else. At the very least I got to keep her.”

“You should have never kept this from him. He would have never-”

“What? Gone back to Peggy? Got his happy ending he so desperately needed? Stop being Captain America and just be Steve?” you shook your head.

“He deserved to know, he loved you with everything in him”

“Then why did he take everything from me?” Your voice waivered, trying to keep yourself in check, there had been years of talk therapy to deal with everything you had been through before and with Steve but it didn’t make the pain go away completely.

“Steve told me what he did in great detail, and I am in no way justifying him. I never knew he had it in him,” Bucky paused “No that’s a lie he was different for a long time after everything happened between him and Tony” you nodded in agreement “But he deserves to know he is a father.”

“Was,” you corrected. “What?” Bucky gave you a confused look. “He went to the past more than likely he’s dead or close to it so he was a father.” He growled at you, oddly making you miss Steve in a way you cared not to dwell on.

“I find out my best friend has a kid he never knew about and you want to get into semantics and syntax?!”

You sighed and silence reigned over the two of you as you flipped the pancake over and preparing to start a new one. This was not going to be easy to get through; you could feel Bucky’s animosity rolling off him.

“I know it was wrong,” you whispered out continuing making pancakes as if nothing was happening, as if this wasn’t a conversation you never wanted to have. “I’ve told her all about him. She knows her dad is Captain America, she knows her dad loves her but that,” you paused not proud of yourself for any of this. “But that to keep us safe he couldn’t visit.” You didn’t dare look back to see Bucky’s face at your confession.

Silence reigned over the kitchen as you finished cooking. Calling out for Olivia you couldn’t help but smile hearing her hurried feet against the porch floorboards. Even with all the pain that led to her, there was a part of you that would always love that night for giving you something you not only thought you couldn’t have but didn’t recognize you needed.

The three of you ate at the kitchen table, Olivia talking continuously only interrupted by mouth full of bananas and pancakes. You watched Bucky take in everything she said as if it was gospel, his eyes so kind and loving right away.

Later that night after Olivia was tucked in bed you found the two of you back at the kitchen table with a bottle of wine. You reminisced, sharing the joined stories and telling new ones. You heard about Thor leaving with some people from Space, the current list of Avengers, Sam’s banter being a welcomed distraction at Steve’s absence and finally the reason he was there to begin with.

“You remind me of him in the best ways. I had to make sure you were safe and taken care of.” He paused placing his hand in his inner jacket pocket toying with something.

“I never imagined I’d find this.” You nodded your head; it was unexpected for you as well. He pulled an envelope from his jacket and set it in front of you, your name written on the front in Steve’s handwriting. You placed your hand against your mouth, unsure of what you would say.

“It was in his room, I don’t know if he ever planned to give it to you but I figured if I did find you I’d make sure you got it. Read it or don’t.” He stood up stretching his arms above his head with a yawn.

“I’ll take my leave but I’ll be back,” he smiled down at you and patted your hand sitting on the table but you never took your eyes off the letter giving a barely perceptible nod of acknowledgement.

You weren’t sure how long it had been since hearing his car pull away that you opened the letter with shaky hands. Before you could start reading you sat it back down on the table, battling if you wanted to hear what could be painful excuses or heartfelt apologies. Shaking your head, writing you a letter was such a Steve move, you poured yourself another glass of wine preparing to deal with whatever he had to say.

Bucky came around often, actually he came around constantly, crashing in the guest bedroom during weekends and sometimes during the week. The three of you had settled into a routine together over the past half year. You didn’t mind though and Olivia loved playing with him but it wasn’t until he was gone for 3 weeks that realized how much is presence had meant to both of you. Olivia had been rather fussy going down for a nap that day, her room in utter disarray and driving you insane as she fought every step of the way while cleaning up after her nap.

You were reading a war history book on the porch swing trying to calm your frazzled nerves as Olivia colored enthusiastically with her crayons when Bucky’s car pulled up. Olivia looked up eagerly dropping her crayons and ran up to the car as it parked.

“Ucky!” Olivia screeched her B’s still not forming properly. You knew a speech therapist was a potential need in the near future as she readied for actual school. Bucky picked her up as he stepped out of the car and held her tight to him standing up straight.

“How has my little princess been?” He smiled at Olivia, bouncing her in his arms as he ascended the porch steps. “A terror,” you muttered and Bucky frowned at Olivia.

“Now then princess, you have to behave for your mother the Queen, right?” you rolled your eyes at Bucky setting your book down. Olivia hides into his chest with shame, knowing she should behave.

“Missed you,” Olivia muttered. Bucky looked at you with wide eyes, her words breaking his heart.

“Well I’m here now!” He pulled her head up and kissed her forehead. “Let’s play princess and knight!” Olivia’s cheer brought a smile to your face as the two of them went off the play. You pulled your book back up and began to read, feeling yourself relax just knowing he was there.

“You’re the princess though!” you chuckled at Olivia’s command; she was never one to play the damsel in distress.

The usual routine set in for the remainder of the day ending in a bottle of wine shared between the two of you at the kitchen table, chairs pulled out facing each other while Olivia slept soundly upstairs. “I wish I deserved this,” Bucky huffed out finishing his glass of wine.

“Deserved what?” You tilted your head looking him perplexed.

“A family, a woman who loved me, a quiet house… this,” he gestured around the room with his metal arm.

“Bucky,” your voice almost scolding him, “You deserve this too, all of it.” He shook his head in disagreement.

“After all I’ve done, I’m grateful I’ve been given the chance to make it right by saving lives instead of just taking them” You frowned at him pushed at his shoulder, trying to shake him of his doubt.

“You’re a good man Bucky.” Placing both your hands on his legs looking him straight in the eye. “You’re great with Olivia. She loves her Uncle Bucky so much,” Bucky couldn’t help the smile that pulled at the corner of his lips. You pulled one hand back to your wine glass, tipping your head back and finishing the last of it.

“Refill!” You chimed grabbing the bottle only to frown at it being empty. “Guess we need a new bottle,” you stood up too quickly, the buzz from the wine making you teeter and land right on Bucky. He caught you with his arms wrapped around your waist pulling you to him, your legs straddling his legs closed. You placed both your hands on his shoulder to steady yourself as you giggled at your clumsiness.

When your giggling died down you looked down at him to see his face stone still looking up at you your chest heaving in front of his face, lifting one hand up you dragged your fingers gently down his cheek, his eyes softening immediately.

“You are a good man James Barnes.” His eyes closed and looked back up at you, the pupils widening a bit.

“No I’m not” he pulled you down into his lap capturing your lips in an awkward and messy kiss, both of you severely out of practice. You were enjoying the sensations moving through your body, wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling him in deeper he bucked against you pulling a small whimper from your lips.

When his tongue grazed your bottom lip your eyes shot open and you stood up taking several steps back, a hand gently touching your lips. You both stuttered trying to compose yourself.

Neither of you brought up that night, both trying to pretend it didn’t happen. While you were relieved that neither of you pushed the topic. There was lingering tension for a while however it didn’t take long for things to return to normal, or the normal the three of you had built together. He was gone for a week this time and when he returned it was the dead of night, you were woken up with him saying your name harsher than ever before and jerking your body burrowed under the covers.

“Whu- Bucky?” You looked into the darkness of your room confused as to what was going on. He turned the side table light on and immediately you saw the distress written all over his face.

“What’s wrong Bucky?” You sat up as he sat down at the corner of your bed, his back stiff as a board.

“He’s back,” it took you a moment to process what he meant by that but as your brain started to reboot your eyes widened in panic

“Oh!” you scrambled up towards him pulling at his shoulders to get him to face you but he wouldn’t budge, eyes never blinking.

“You can’t tell him Bucky.” You begged feeling large tears falling from your eyes. “Please Bucky, please don’t tell him” You pleaded but he wouldn’t look at you.

“It’s too late,” he finally turned to you with regret in his eyes.

“He’s been back a week and” He took a deep breath turning his head straight ahead “I couldn’t keep it from him.” You fell back from the force of letting go of him, back of your head hit the wall but you didn’t care about that or respond when he said your name.

You were pulled out of your thoughts when you heard the rumbling of a motorcycle get louder.

“No, no, no” you scrambled off your bed in only a night shirt. Whizzing past Oliva’s closed bedroom door and down the stairs you opened the door with such force the wind sent your hair and shirt flying back.

There he was, pushing the motorcycle’s kick stand down while pulling his helmet off. Even the moon light shined off his golden hair, golden hair just like your precious girl. You clutched your hands to your heart, your body frozen watching him dismount the motorcycle and begin walking towards you with purpose. His face hard set with pain and anger when he stopped in front of you. You pushed your hands against his chest, looking up at him.

“Please,” you began “Let me see her,” he voice brokered no argument but at least he wasn’t forcing his way in you thought.

Without another word you walked up the stairs, feeling his oppressive shadow looming behind you. Your eyes cut to Bucky leaning his back against the door frame of your bedroom when your eyes met you glared at him, your body seething in anger.

Gently you opened the door to Olivia’s bedroom; turning to face Steve you put your pointer finger over your lips. He nodded looking into the darkness of the room in fear, fear of what he would find in there. He slowly stepped towards the small lump in the bed. You sat at the middle on the side of the bed and pulled the hair back from in front of her face. You could hear Steve gasp cut off by him covering his mouth with a gloved hand. You gently trailed your fingers over her cheek not daring to look up at Steve just yet.

He moved to his knees, you could feel the head of his body against your legs as he hovered over Olivia’s sleeping form. Tears streamed down his cheeks as he stared at Olivia in awe and admiration. It was awhile before he moved, shakily removing a glove and placing his hand over the top of her head, almost hovering at first before finally settling his hand gently on the crown of her head.

His body visibly sagged at the touch, his shoulders hunched over and trembling. You pulled your hand away from Olivia wanting to give Steve this moment to himself. You went to stand up but his still gloved hand grabbed your shoulder pulling you gently back down.

The three of you remained in this position for a while, Steve entranced at Olivia’s breathing and his other hand never leaving your shoulder. He pulled his hand back from you slowly, “Perfect” came out under his breath as he removed his other hand from Olivia. He went to stand up but froze mid lift when the glimmer of a frame on the bedside table caught his eye.

You looked away in embarrassment for some reason. He grabbed the photo and took it with him as he stood up, staring at it longingly barely visible from the moon light shining into Olivia’s room. It was the best photo ever taken of just the two of you, out on Clint’s farm his arm was wrapped around your waist and you leaned against his chest both of you smiling bright looking at the camera.

He sat the frame down gently and the both of you made your way out of the room, pulling the door closed, behind you both super soldiers walked down stairs. You followed them until you and Steve were outside Bucky remaining inside; you were not prepared for the conversation that would follow.

Steve remained silent, looking at you trying he was trying to formulate what he wanted to say first but you beat him to it.

“I should have never kept you from her,” you knew it was true, the action as purely out of fear and selfishness.

“No, you shouldn’t have. You had no right!” When his voice rose he stopped talking, taking deep breaths. “You were protecting yourself and her I know. It still hurts that you did it. I missed so much time with her and with you but I –” He sighed. “I was a different person then. I understand why.” He sighed looking up towards the moon.

“Bucky told me her name is Olivia, gorgeous name.”

“Olivia Sarah Rogers,” Steve’ eyes widened at his mother’ name being incorporated but never looked at you. You could near him sniffled a little and could feel the need to comfort him rise within you.

“She’s so beautiful, so perfect. How could so much pain make something so pure?” his words echoing what you had thought often these past years.

“It wasn’t all pain,” you swallowed hard looking down at your feet. “We loved each other as much as we could and from that love, came her.” He hmed in agreement.

“I don’t know how we will work it out but I will be part of her life now and forever.” You nodded your head though he missed it still looking up at the night sky; Olivia needed her father in her life.

“Bucky told me you read my letter.” He was looking directly at you now, “I only went back because I knew I couldn’t have you. I thought I could regain the happiness I had with you by returning to another time I felt that way,” You nodded your head in understanding.

“But it was never the same, not after you,” he paused a moment contemplating if he should continue “I am still so deeply in love with you.” He sighed out your name and made a step toward you, you immediately took one back.

“I can give you friendship and a mutual respect as Olivia’s parents but anything beyond that,” you swallowed hard not liking the apprehension tingling up your spine. “and you’re asking for too much.” He took a step back and looked down nodding his head.

“Right, right.” He looked back up and extended his hand. “Friends then?” You timidly took his hand and shook. “Yeah, friends.”

-6 Month Later-

He took her almost every weekend he was not working, and sometimes for a week at a time trying often to get you to come with them but his attempts remained unsuccessful. The alone time was new to you but welcomed.

Bucky would come by and keep you company, sometimes with Sam to leave you in stitches from laughing at the two of them. Rarely Wanda would find her way out to you; still hurt you never reached out to her when everyone came back. More often than not you found yourself working on projects around the property you had put off, fixing the chicken coop, planting the new vegetables, and finally fixing Olivia’s favorite porch swing.

He was helping Oliva out of his car when you were repairing the porch swing facing the mountain cliff when the whole thing fell from the chain you had just put it on directly onto your foot. “Fuck!” You yelled out in pain cursing Tony and the architect who designed this unreasonably weighed porch swing. The metal bench definitely broke a toe or two.

“Language!” You could hear Oliva call out from around the corner of the wrap around porch as she ran inside. The eye roll you gave should have definitely sent your eyes completely detached. Oh of course he taught her that. Steve’s chuckle was unmistakable as his heavy foot stops neared you as you started to pick the bench up again in attempt to attach it to the new chain for a second time.

“Want some help?” he offered from behind you, giving out a huff and nodding your head in the direction the other side of the bench still on the ground. He lifted his side up with ease, eyes widening at the weight of it.

“Why would you want a bench this heavy? No wonder it fell out of your grip.” He commented as you both successfully secured it on the new chains.

“Tony wanted to guarantee everything would be sturdy enough in case little on over there came into some type of power…” she paused looking up at him, “Also in case a super soldier wanted to sit in it the poor thing wouldn’t just crumble and fold under the weight.” Steve laughed at that one, putting his hands in his pockets.

“He always thought of everything,” Steve’s tone dropping its cheerfulness. “Sometimes I look at Olivia I wonder how much she’d have him wrapped around his finger.” You nodded your head having felt the, “Oh she did, Morgan and Olivia ran his life when together,” you added.

His smile sad full of regret having missed the chance to see that, you could sense he wanted to reach for you as he pulled at his pockets but he thought better of it. You were appreciative for his restrain. You went to take a step towards the front door but bent over in pain shooting from your toes up your leg.

Steve looked at you in concern but you waved him off. “I’ll be fine, just need to wrap it,” you hobble rather slowly and as you pass Steve he picks you up with both arms cradling you to his chest.

“It will take you until dinner to even get up the stairs at that rate.” He gave you no room to argue and he took you to the master bathroom you muttered unintelligible under your breath. He sat you down on your vanity chair and began rummaging under the sink before pulling out your first aid kit. He lifted your damaged foot up to his standing lap you winced while he pulled your shoe and sock off.

“This is bruising quickly,” his voice laced with concern and began to wrap the two big toes together. You tried your best not to make any noises but it really did hurt. “You were always the worst at being mindful of your feet.” He smiled as he continued to treat your foot.

You smiled softly up at him, but his eyes were focused on securing your toes and not putting you in anymore pain than you already were. The gently grazing of his fingers on your foot made you realize you were so starved for touch that wasn’t from a child. The last time an adult touched you intimately was Bucky.

You blanched at that thought and cleared your throat wondering if Bucky had told Steve about the kiss. You weren’t sure if you wanted to know or of his reaction recalling his 100th birthday fiasco, while very hot it was spurred on by his insecurity when it came to Bucky. Pulling you from your thoughts you felt Steve’s hand gently caressing your ankle looking down at you with a softness you hadn’t seen form him since you two had begun spending time together again.

Uncomfortable by his attention you pulled your food down muttering a thank you. He nodded and stood up straight. “Did you know that Bucky is seeing a girl who works in the Compound?” he tried to keep you talking, not wanting to leave your presence just yet.

“Oh?” You smiled at the thought, “He did not tell me, that sly dog!” You chuckled while standing up on your feet once more.

“Why don’t you shower, the binding should be fine getting wet. I’ll cook dinner for all of us. It’s getting late and you won’t be able to do both those things before Olivia gets ‘hangry’”

“Oh, uh, yeah okay.” You were still having trouble with handling the two parent life style. While it was a welcome change it was hard to share Olivia, more so hard to depend on Steve again but as the months had gone by it was getting easier and feeling more natural.

Steve left not too soon after dinner was done, dishes washed and Olivia tucked in bed after a bed time story, you hobbled up towards your bedroom pushing the door open your brows furrowed at the envelop on your bed. It was Steve’s hand writing and your name. Without waiting much further you read the letter through. It were as if Steve was writing his private journal and giving you the pages. What you didn’t know this was just the first of many for the next months. Leave it to Steve to hand write you letters instead of e-mailing or texting like anyone else would do.

He would hide the letters sometimes. Once you found one in the pantry, another under a couch cushion. You thought for a moment was he sneaking in at night and hiding them, the image making you laugh.

At first most his letters expressed his remorse over you, the accords, Tony, Bucky and everything in the between. Then they turned more specific. He explained why he couldn’t stay back in time. He had romanticized the past, the inequality and hate harsher than he ever remember. After the initial bliss of being with Peggy wore off that he could see that he never really belonged to that time, not after everything he went through in the 21st century, not after you.

He joked that even though he felt this was his time more he couldn’t work the time travel device well enough to get back to the right time. Never once did he ask you to reply to him instead he would write that these were his only way he could communicate with you without trying to repair it all by trying to kiss and hold you to him until part of you remained inside him always.

He talked about addiction and habits, breaking down how you two turned so toxic for each other, owning his own mistakes and seeing yours too. It was refreshing to see or read this version of him so open, so vulnerable. A few letters became more illicit, and you couldn’t help the way your face flushed and breathing labored.

You read them often, sometimes you cried, other times you laughed, and every now and then you would touch yourself remembering the best times with him.

The storm was ragging hard outside, the power staying on curtesy of the backup generator. The three of you were on the living room couch together, Olivia in the middle singing along to the cartoon musical playing. You were reading one of the war history books Bucky had Steve read over some a report of some kind. You saw the lightning strike and felt your hairs rise at the close proximity before the loud pop came.

Olivia screamed and reached for both of you, without thinking you both wrapped her around the two of you as you hushed her whimpers. Steve gently pet her hair down telling her how brave and strong she was that something as puny as lightning or thunder could never hurt her.

She calmed down after a bit and went back to watching her movie, the two of you returning to your previous activities. Steve’s eyes kept leaving his report looking back at you with a side frown, his tongue running along the bottom of his teeth before he looked down at Olivia to see she had crashed. A warm smile spread across his face lighting his eyes, reaching down he gently cupped her tiny face in his hand.

At times he hurt at how much he could love this little person, she was a perfect mold of the two of you, her hardheadedness rivaling both yours and that soft compassion you had instilled him reminding him how wonderful of a woman you truly are.

He picked Olivia up without a word to you and took her up to her room. You turned the T.V. off and slowly made your way upstairs. Your heart felt like it was going to burst out of your chest watching him tuck her in and kiss her forehead before turning off her light and closing the door. You’d be stupid to deny the growing warmth you felt towards him, his fatherly behavior and letters awakening a long dulled feeling.

When he turned to face you after pulling the door to you couldn’t stop yourself from taking his hand and pulling him into your room. Shutting the door softly you watched him staring at your bed littered in his letters. You blushed as if it was secret that his letters would ever be cherished and re-read.

You took his hand, gently pulling him to face you, his face soft and eyes looking all around your face as if trying to memorize each line, each sun kissed spot. Taking the hand you hold you put it against your cheek. You nuzzled your face into his large hand as he cupped your face so gently, grazing your other cheek with the back of his fingers. His eyes were a bright blue; you could see the tears forming at the corner of his eyes.

“I ache every time you look at me, and every time Olivia smiles at me all I can see is you,” he paused leaning his head down until your lips were a hairs breathe away but he kept his distance his eyes searching yours. You could feel your heart rate pick up at the sudden closeness. “Oh doll face how I ache, ache with pride at what a wonderful girl you’ve raised, ache with pain knowing you kept her from me, ache with need to hold you every night, ache to kiss you,”

“Then kiss me,” your voice was so soft you almost thought he wouldn’t hear you over your heart drumming so loud in your chest, but his lips touched yours, so gently, so soft. You rested your hand at his hips, the kiss remaining chaste and loving as you leaned up on your toes to him. He pulled his lips from yours only to turn his head and press them gently to yours once more. He led you slowly to the bed, never breaking contact with your lips. Without looking you pushed his letters off your bed, he pulled his lips from yours and gently pulled you with him to lie on your sides facing each other.

“I don’t want you to give or do anything you can’t,” he was searching your eyes for any uncertainty or doubt about what you were doing. You shook your head and marveled at the way he had changed, the way he wanted to take care of you, truly, how it used to be so long ago. You kissed him this time, pressing your lips against him with a sense of urgency, your tongue venturing out to gently swipe along his bottom lip. He groaned out and rolled over on top of you, holding himself up on his elbows, returning your urgency, tentatively rolling his tongue along yours.

He was so attentive, never pushing too hard, or demanding. Instead it was slow, languid and reverent with each touch. His hands slowly pulling your shirt off, exposing an old sports bra, he rests his head on your chest and you felt dampness seeping into the bra.

Lifting his head up you could see a few tears still falling down his cheeks; you pulled him back up kissing his lips gently tasting the salt of his tears.

“Hey hey,” you whispered against his lips, “no crying you’re going to give me a complex.” You tried to joke and he gave you a half smile.

“I’ve felt like half of me has been pulled apart for so long, seeing you again and now being here laying with you once more, “ he swallowed a lip in his throat, “kissing you was almost too much. I don’t deserve your forgiveness, I don’t deserve you,”

You sat up on your elbows frowning at him. “You deserve to be happy, everyone deserves that. I deserve that. Here with you, I feel happy. Let’s just be happy Steve. Together.”

“I want that but I cannot let you go if you let me back in. This won’t be just one night” He confessed, pain on his face the thought of losing you again.

“Just ask Steve,” he smile and crawled back up your body. Looking into your eyes he whispered your name.

“Be mine,” You could only nod yes. He was kissing you once more, pulling your tongue out to gently caress between each other. Slowly he made his way down your jaw to your neck; his hands began to work your sports bra off. As you lay back down from helping your bra off you felt self-conscious. It was the first time he had seen your breasts or body for that matter since having Olivia you tried your best to fight your insecurity away.

He lavished his attention on your breasts, moving between each one nipping, suckling and gently biting down. You whimpered and mewled at the sensations running up and down your body at his touch. Tenderly he kissed down your stomach, pulling your pants and underwear lower pausing at your faint cesarean scar, you felt the insecurity creep in but he nuzzled his face into kissing the skin he touched as he pulled your pants and under wear completely off. Continuing his gentle kisses he left a final on one your mons, looking up at you with that signature blown pupils of desire and a soft grin curling around his mouth.

You reached down, smoothing his hair down with one hand the other cupping the side of his face. Without another moment he kept eye contact pulling your little bud in between his lips, gently rolling his tongue against it while he trailed fingers up and down your sopping wet core. You lifted your knees up immediately bring your hands to the side of your head and arching your back with a soft cry. With his other hand his pushed down on your lower abdomen to keep you from pushing him off, continuing his slow rolling along your clit he dipped one finger in, groaning into your mound at the wetness.

You felt the tall tale coil tighten fast as he moved second finger inside of you, moving at a steady but not rough pace. This was the first time you had been touched in over five years, it was so gentle and passionate you could feel yourself start to cry. He started suckling on your clit and it was more than you could take, you sobbed out his name as you came with such ferocity. Had he not been pressing your lower abdomen down you would have surely thrown him off the bed as you shoved.

His touch was so pure, so loving you felt the tears still streaming down your face as he crawled back up your body.

He called out your name but you didn’t open your eyes, almost afraid this was one of your many dreams. He said your name in a hushed tone this time. You could feel the pads of his thumbs whipping away your tears as he held your face. Slowly you opened your eyes, looking into his worried striking blue eyes.

“Are you okay?” his words timid, scared of the answer. You nodded your head, leaning up to kiss him softly. When he pulled away he saw the sleepiness in your eyes and smiled. Rolling over to your side he pulled your back against his front and cradled you into him. You felt his arousal against your back and as you went to reach for him he grabbed your hand.

“No doll face, this is only about you,” you nodded your head, still concerned about his needs as he held your hand pulling it to your chest.

“It should have always been about you,” his voice hushed, feeling the heat of his breath graze along your temple. “It will be from now on.” The conviction in his voice resonating through you as your eyes began to droop closed.

“I love you,” the words didn’t reach you though, already fast sleep, but it didn’t matter to him if you heard it because he was determined to show you the truth from then on.

#Steve Rogers #steve rogers smut #captain america #captain america smut #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x female #avengers endgame #avengers smut #avengers engame spoilers #Bucky Barnes #thor #clint barton #tony stark #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #fanfic

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hardyimagines · 6 years ago

Text

Guardian

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Leo Demidov is your only hope of survival when your family is murdered and you’re left all on your own.

Warnings: little bit of swearing but are we really all that surprised?

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The world was deafeningly silent. The birds that flew overhead seemed to be moving in slow motion. Their wings flapped at an agonizingly slow speed. The clouds in the sky opened and the rain fell down as harshly as the tears that raced along your cheeks. Nothing made sense in that moment as you knelt in the grainy dirt, hands covered in blood as you sobbed into the lifeless bodies in front of you. You were next. A bullet in your skull would end your suffering but it hadn’t come just yet, and god you couldn’t wait for it too.

An hour earlier.

“Anatoly, please.” The floorboards creaked beneath your footsteps as you weaved between the island in the center and the cupboard. Narrowly avoiding him as he created an even larger mess in the center of the living room, you swallowed quietly. “You have to go..” Your warning fell on deaf ears. He was continuing to rummage through the case on the floor. Searching. Searching. He wouldn’t stop. His chipped nails, filthy with dirt submerged beneath the tips, sunk repeatedly into the case as he hunted for whatever it was that he needed. Your eyes lifted to the ceiling at the sound of your younger brother, bouncing on the bed and then leaping on to the floor. The dust, trapped between the cracks in the ceiling broke free and fell to the floor below. You huffed under your breath before moving to the corner. Wrapping your hand around the broom that leant against the wall, you securely gripped the stick before lifting it. Tapping the ceiling with the end to gain the boy’s attention, you shouted as best as you could. “James, quit!” You pleaded. “Sit down and do your work like you were told!” The child was so disobedient. He was 13, and although he looked much older, he certainly didn’t act it. Puberty hadn’t wasted any time at all before gripping your brother and lugging him into adulthood — appearance wise. The back of your hand brushed along your forehead as you turned. Sometimes he felt like your child. A seven year age gap and no mother certainly made it feel that way. Setting the cleaning tool down, your eyes flickered to the door as it opened and your father moved inside. He wore a look of panic. One that made your blood run cold.

“Anatoly!” His frantic whisper made you instantly back up. “They’re coming!” ‘Who?’ Your head instantly inquired. It wasn’t your place to speak up though, so you merely backed yourself up and away from the approaching danger. Your father gave you one look, a silent one, but his eyes told you all you needed to know. Hide. Turning on your heel, you stayed silent as you rushed toward the stairs. A man’s business was never a woman’s and if Anatoly was in trouble, it certainly wasn’t your place to delve deeper into the reasoning. You slung the door open to your brother’s bedroom and hurriedly snatched his arm. The shirt he wore was tugged down in the slightest due to your yanking on him.

“Come!” You pleaded. James looked at you with wide eyes. They flooded with fear at the desperation in your tone and it showed outwardly. Confusion simmered in his bright green eyes, but even with how disobedient he was, he knew not to ask questions. You led him toward the closet and hurriedly drew his clothing to the side. “In, in!” You nudged him toward the hiding space. Shutting the closet, you climbed inside with him and locked your arms around his shoulders. He set his head on your collar and closed his eyes.

The sound of raging men flooded the house within minutes. Then silence. Silence, moments of it, and then shouting. And loads of it. You could hear your father’s voice, it was defensive and demanding. Anatoly couldn’t be heard, but you were sure he must’ve ran. It sounded like there were a hundred bulls downstairs, every single one of them trampling over the wood and furniture as they tore the house to shreds in search of —

“Where is he! Tarasov!” A loud voice overthrew your dad’s. It drowned in anger and agitation for he wanted Anatoly and he wanted him bad. You kissed James’ head before shutting your eyes. Your father would have to be honest and give up his long time friend. But you couldn’t hear his voice, so you knew he wasn’t being much help. Your heart ached. They wouldn’t have mercy on him. The sound of footsteps carried up the stairs and only then did you heart begin to race with anxiousness. You felt sick all of a sudden, sick because they surely saw the displayed photographs which was enough information for them to know that the man downstairs had a daughter and a son. A daughter and a son that could be used to drag the whereabouts of Anatoly Tarasov out of him. You swallowed thickly before moving your lips to your brother’s ear. They were getting closer. It would be foolish of them not to check the closet, but you’d made a last minute decision to at least try and hide in the small, pathetic, falling-apart house. The doors, as you knew they would, were torn open and two guards stood with sudden, sickening smiles. You immediately sprung forward to try and fight off their grips and grasps. James should’ve ran. He should’ve sprinted away and found a safe place to go. But he didn’t. He sat there with a doe-eyed stare, watching as the guards yanked and tugged at your dress, fighting over which one of them would deliver you downstairs. It took them a moment before the larger one hoisted you up and carried you from the room. No matter how hard you kicked and screamed and begged to be set down, he didn’t listen. His hand rested on your calves, preventing you from doing too much.

“Delivery.” His thick accent announced. “Vasili. Where do you want her?” The sound of your dad attempting to break free and get to you was all you could hear, but as you stared at the floor, slung over the man’s shoulder still, you counted the amount of boots in your home. There were too many men in here. Too many to fight off and outrun.

“Outside. We don’t want to make a mess.” Vasili’s voice didn’t sound intimidating, but it made your skin crawl. You hit the man’s back with your fist, begging to be put down. He only did so once you were outside.

“Kneel.” He ordered. His tone was softer, but kinder. But he was still an asshole for taking you from your hiding place along with your brother. You did as he said. Causing problems wouldn’t get you anywhere except for buried. Swallowing thickly, you looked toward your dad as they dragged him outside. His face was bloody and he looked worn. He hadn’t been inside long so you instantly whimpered out at the sight of him. They dropped him in the dirt beside you, so you leaned over and set your hands on his hunched back. Your voice was breathy and pleading, begging to know if he was alright. But there was no time for him to give an answer before they brought the third and final member of your small family outside. The guard who gripped him had a tight hold of his hair. James screamed and thrashed, begging to be let go. Your instincts kicked in and you stood from your position. A very brave move, but still a poor one. You didn’t make it very far before Vasili locked his arm around your hips and dragged your back against his chest. His lips were cold against your ear, words harsh and spat.

“He’s a grown boy.” He growled against your ear. “He doesn’t need his sister to rush to his aid. Tell me.. do you always disobey a direct order. You were told to kneel.. so why is it that I’ve now got you, defenseless, trapped against me?” Your hand lifted to the arm that he wrapped around your chest. He was so wrong. James wasn’t grown. James was 13. His brain functioned like an 8 year old’s and just because he appeared to be much older didn’t give them the right to treat him so viciously. Prying at his forearm desperately, you turned your head to the side to try and get away from the close proximity and his horrible breath. The guard threw James toward his dad and Vasili, not appreciative at all for the way you didn’t acknowledge him, nodded. “Fine then.” His hand brushed along your collarbone. You wanted to vomit. Your stomach churned in warning and your heart beat so heavily, you thought it might break free of its confinement. You looked toward your father as he cradled your brother. Vasili, without any warning at all, withdrew his weapon. The revolver was thick and due to the close proximity, it would kill anyone instantly. You hadn’t noticed it. Not until the first shot fired and your father, whom you’d been gazing at, had a hole in the center of his forehead. His lifeless body fell on the ground and your brother cried out, desperate for his father to get up. You were speechless, frozen to the spot in disbelief. Your brain couldn’t register what it had just witnessed and when the second shot fired, you swore you’d been the one to take the bullet. But James’ body fell limp, directly beside his father and your legs no longer worked. You collapsed in the dirt, Vasili no longer trying at all to hold you up. The surrounding guards stood with solemn features, none of them having expected what had just taken place.

Your hands curled in the dirt, eyes latched on to the bodies of your loved ones. The pain that flooded you hurt more than anything you’d ever had to endure. You couldn’t even cry because of how many tears wanted to break free at once. Your fingers wrapped around a nearby rock and without thinking, you rolled over and threw it as hard as you could at Vasili. He stumbled back as the stone hit his head, hand instantly lifting to try and soothe the pain. But he figured torturing you and shooting you would be a better remedy for the bruise that would form from the rock.

“You little bitch.” He whispered before stomping toward you. His hands gripped your ankles, smoothly dragging you forward so that you were pinned directly beneath him. Dropping to his knees, he grabbed the hem of your dress and began to yank it up. You squirmed beneath him, hands curled into fists as you punched, hit, pushed, and shoved at him. He lifted the gun in his hand and pressed it to the side of your skull. “Have you not learned-“ He shouted. “to do what you’re told?” He was using the weapon to get you to listen as he pushed your thighs apart and sunk his own hips forward. His eyes slid along your features. One of the men nearby rubbed his teeth together before stepping forward.

“Demidov..” He started to speak up. He wanted to warn Vasili that Leo wouldn’t stand for this, but he knew that Vasili couldn’t stand the man and he didn’t want to spur his actions any further. He looked to you. But he couldn’t just stand by and let this happen. “Let her up.”

Vasili looked to Alexei at the mention of Demidov. He wanted to laugh at the threat of that cocksucker’s name. He knelt up then. Pulling a look of ‘well maybe next time’, he instead brought the gun roughly down across your face. The pain in your cheek was nothing compared to the one in your heart. He climbed off of you and with a heavy breath, he stood to the side. You felt so disgusting. Lying in a circle of men with your dress around your upper thighs and your dad and brother dead just a few feet away from you. Sniffling, you sat up with watery eyes and crawled toward their bodies. Your hands lifted to each of their cheeks, caressing their peaceful features before you hunched over and cried into your little brother’s chest.

“What the fuck are you doing?” A new voice shouted. The sound of multiple footsteps could be heard approaching. And then the sound of Anatoly’s cries. You lifted your head. Tears stained your cheeks, making them glisten and sticky. You sniffled quietly before straightening.

“Anatoly.” Your whisper was unheard for every man was looking at Leo.

“Eh, what the fuck,” Leo’s voice grew louder as he approached. “are you doing!” His large hand wrapped around Vasili’s wrist. Shoving him back, he snatched the gun and threw it into the dirt. Your eyes flickered to it, but you made no movement. It wouldn’t be wise.

“She didn’t listen.” Vasili sounded so pathetic beneath the harsh shouts of the other man. “I was teaching her a lesson- I told her to kneel and she..” Leo’s eyes were moving from the two lifeless bodies to you and then back to Vasili. “Alexei.” Leo clenched his jaw. “You tell me what happened.” He spoke gruffly before turning to look at the man. His eyes were demanding, surging with dominance and power as he waited for someone to speak up. You rotated around to look at the man. You’d never felt this brave in all your life, but you supposed you had nothing left to lose.

“He killed my father and then my brother.” Your voice was audible. It shook, but it was clear. Leo turned around then to face you. His blue eyes locked on to yours, narrowing in the slightest. The strands of grass around you blew with the wind and suddenly became more interesting for you to look at. “Tell me,” You whispered. “Demidov.” Remembering his name from earlier, you bravely looked back up at him. “Do you train your men to kill when they are not obeyed? Or to rape? Or to hit?” The redness in your jaw told him you’d been attacked. The bodies spoke for the killing, but he was confused when you spoke of rape. He looked back to Vasili then. He knew Alexei wouldn’t have ever let that happen — but that simply told Leo that Vasili had tried. Leo’s fist flew into the side of Vasili’s jaw, sending the man directly down and into the dirt. His chest heaved and his face was red. Removing his hat, he looked toward the child and then the man. “Get these bodies out of here.” He muttered to the men before looking to you. When one of the guards grabbed your arm, Leo growled. “I didn’t say to touch her, did I?” His boots sunk into the dirt as he approached you. “You come inside. Pack a bag.” He made no movement to force you. Or to even lay a hand on you. His hands were at his sides, one of them fiddling with the chain that hung from his hip. You didn’t obey right away, you just wanted to see if this man was the same as the others. He wasn’t. You could tell after kneeling for five minutes. His patience didn’t wear thin. He was calm and collected and he wasn’t rushing you in the slightest. He took a small step back as you stood. When you did, he caught a brief glance of a tear in your dress and he felt the guilt pool in his stomach. Following along behind you and into the house, he kept his distance. He didn’t want to get too close and make you agitated or fearful. His eyes scanned the length of the living room. It was torn to shreds.

“My brother,” You whispered. “he was.. only thirteen.” Your throat grew tighter. Turning to face Leo, you stared at him, arms folding defensively over his chest. “and because this man,” You looked to the window. Vasili stood with his head low and hand on the side of his face. “is ‘in charge’, he won’t get into trouble, will he?” Leo blinked slowly before looking to the side. He licked his lips before stepping toward you in the slightest.

“I’ll see to it.” He promised. His arm opened and he ushered for you to go and get your things. The house was no longer livable and he wasn’t about to leave you, a fatherless, lonely girl in the middle of nowhere all on her own. He also didn’t trust that Vasili wouldn’t come back and finish what he’d started. Your eyes scanned his features, so honest and soft. With a light nod, you vanished around the corner and into your bedroom. The brown case in the corner was smoothly hoisted up and on to the bed. Opening the clutches, you stuck your belongings into the bag. Dresses, trousers, blouses, jewelry, photos. Your eyes watered as you lifted things that had belonged to your family. Sniffling softly, you sealed the bag shut and lifted the heavy thing. The pain in your cheek was beginning to set in as you made your way back to the main room. You just felt like crying now. Leo was stood in the kitchen, hands set on the counter as he stared out the window, oblivious you’d returned.

“Where will I go?” You asked suddenly. Adjusting the bag on your shoulder because the weight of it was hauling your tired body down, you gripped the strap tighter and securely tugged it up the length of your shoulder. Leo looked in your direction when he realized you’d returned. The suddenness of your voice probably would’ve made him jump if he weren’t so faraway. His eyes latched on to you, lips twitching.

“Do you have any other family?” His lips rubbed together, racking his brain for a place to send you. You shook your head. “No grandparents?” Again, you shook your head. “Well,” He sighed breathily before looking back toward the window. “You can stay with me,” He offered. “and my wife, until you find another place.” It was wrong to assume that all members of the MGB were evil. He was proof that they weren’t. Agreeing right away made you seem forgiving and even though it hadn’t been Leo’s fault your family was taken from you, you still wanted to show him that you weren’t going to let it go. Your eyes searched his for a few moments before you nodded shortly. He stepped around the table, blue eyes moving to your cheek. It was turning a soft shade of purple. “We will get you some ice, mh?” Taking your bag from you, he set it on his shoulder and let his fingers graze your arm. The touch wasn’t purposeful, but when you didn’t flinch away from him, he felt like you trusted him at least a little. Smiling kindly, he led you out of the house and toward the car. “Alexei. You take Vasili back. I will take her with me.” The brunette nodded once before turning toward Vasili. Nudging him toward the vehicle, the rest of the men got their own ways back.

Leo set your bag in the trunk as you climbed into the passenger seat. The hole in your heart was still killing you, but you knew there was nothing that could be done. Tipping your head back to rest against the seat, you slowly turned your head toward the man when he slid into the driver’s seat.

“What’s your name?” You whispered.

“Demidov.” He grumbled out.

“Your whole name.” Your brows lifted, noting the way he kept his first name to himself.

“Leo.” He stuck the key in the ignition and cranked it before looking toward you. His expression told you that he reciprocated the question.

“Y/N.” You told him quietly before strapping yourself in. Buckling the seatbelt, you set your hands in your lap and clasped them together before looking toward the window. Watching as he began to drive away from the place you’d called home for all of your life, you bit your bottom lip and lifted your hand to wipe at your runny nose. The rest of the car ride was relatively quiet. He tried at one point to turn on some music, but the radio was busted and all that came out of it was a crackling sound. He smiled apologetically before trying to create small talk, but you’d found pretty quickly that it was you who struggled to hold the conversation. He didn’t blame you though. You’d been through a lot. The car’s engine was loud, but it was similar to white noise. It lulled you to sleep like a lullaby did to a baby. He kept a close eye on you, heart aching because what had happened that day should’ve never happened. Vasili was dangerous and entirely too chaotic. He couldn’t be a part of the MGB if this was how he was going to handle things.

————

Raisa. She was very pretty. She was soft, and kind, but she didn’t take shit from anybody. Leo loved her a lot. You could tell as you lounged at the dinner table, watching intently as he checked on her now and again. She didn’t hold that same kind of love though. The smiles she gave her husband didn’t reach her eyes. But Leo didn’t seem to notice. The dish of hot food was set in front of you by the man. His hand brushed your shoulder, an innocent touch to inquire if you were alright. You’d been staying with them for a week and it was beyond fine. Leo was so generous. He was caring. You weren’t sure why Raisa didn’t seem to return the feelings that Leo so clearly displayed, but it wasn’t your business. Thanking him for the food, you sunk your fork into the meat and began to eat. Your knees pressed together beneath the table. You were always silent at dinner, only participating in conversation when you were directly spoken to. You didn’t cut in or interrupt, you stayed in your place and you were very respectful.

After dinner, you typically went to your bedroom and stayed in their for the night. Leo’s office was right across the hall though so if you ever needed anything, he always kept the door open a crack. Raisa slept upstairs in the largest bed. Usually by herself because Leo was quite busy lately. He was always leaving at wee hours in the morning and returning back to his home extremely late. You didn’t mind his absence, but only because you’d stay tucked away in your room. Raisa wasn’t much of a talker. And lately she’d been staying out late enough to arrive home an hour before Leo. You were still eating your food, focusing on the vegetables that rolled around on the dish as Raisa, for the third time this week, started an argument. She threw her cutlery down on the dish and stood, finger pointed toward her husband as she shouted over this and that. You never tuned in on what they were saying, and sometimes they spoke Russian, so you couldn’t understand anyway. When she stormed off with teary eyes, you both knew she was going to retrieve her coat and then go out for the night. Still, you didn’t say anything. You hadn’t seen Leo angry since he’d shouted at Vasili and you really didn’t want to — not again.

The house was silent as Raisa gathered what she wanted to bring and then there was the slamming of the door. Leo’s gaze was fixated on his plate, breaths heavy as he pondered what to do. You shifted in your seat.

“Are you alright?” You asked quietly. Poking and prying wouldn’t be smart, but checking in on him was fine. He looked toward you then before bobbing his head lightly.

“I fear,” He rolled a pea around on his plate before stabbing it with a quiet growl. “Raisa does not love me anymore.” Your eyes fell to the plate, eyeing the way that he messed with his food. He rubbed his face down with a moan of disapproval before standing. His hands curled at his sides, big, broad body flexing as he started to pace. “And I’m afraid, I feel the same way.” He scratched the underside of his chin before moving over to the corner. Pouring himself a glass of whisky, you winced at how quickly he drained the contents. Standing cautiously, you approached him with awareness.

“Leo.” Your small palm pressed against his back. “Don’t drown yourself in alcohol.” He was starting to pour himself another glass, but you stopped him just in time. Laying your hand on the glass, you set it back down on the table before gazing up at the bloke. He looked broken and regretful. But you’d feel the same way if you were in his shoes. The guilt of not loving someone anymore was always a horrible feeling. But it happened all the time. His eyes were watery and glassy. Red rims lines his blue orbs. You weren’t sure what to do in order to help him. He looked so sad and you couldn’t help but feel bad for him. Sympathy. It was a bitch. You hardly knew the man and yet, you couldn’t stand to see him look the way he did. Your hand moved around to his shoulder, gently gripping it as you spoke again. “Let’s go lay down?” ‘Let’s’. An invitation to escort him to bed. ‘Let’s’. An invitation to join him in bed. Neither of you knew which ‘let’s’ you had used. Leo followed you toward the stairs. The wood was coated in dust and was in desperate need of being sweeped. You stepped, barefoot, on the steps, climbing them as you led him to his bedroom. He didn’t need help, you both knew that. One glass of whisky wasn’t going to send him spiraling into a state of drunkenness, but he was grateful for the help, and you were grateful for the company. Stepping into the bedroom after nudging the door open with your foot, you moved your hand along his arm before stopping at the bed. He sat down, shoulders slouching forward and legs spreading as he hunched over. Your hand moved to his hair shyly. Brushing his lengthy locks down because they seemed to be untamable at the moment, your nails grazed his scalp, calming those raging thoughts he had. He slowly tipped his head up and looked toward you. His eyes held a tint of desire and want. For you or for affection, you didn’t know. But it would be wrong to give in. His hand lifted to your hip, wide as it set on the crook of it. Your brows lifted. “Leo.. I don’t think.. um.” He sensed the hesitation, but he still drew you forward. Your legs were spread on either side of his left knee. Inhaling deeply, you stared down at him. “This isn’t what you want, I promise. You’re just hurting.” Setting your warm hands on his recently shaved cheeks, your thumbs traced his chin slowly. “You hardly know me, Leo. And you’ve known Raisa for so long. Don’t throw all of that away just for a little temptation.” Your words mixed with your touches made it hard for him to choose. But then he recalled his revelation from earlier. He’d fallen out of love with his wife. He swiftly tugged you down and on to his knee, hands firm as they held you steady on him. Your heart thumped wildly against your chest, cheeks warming beneath his stare and stomach twisting with nerves. You could tell him a hundred times that you weren’t what he wanted, but he seemed to be pulling you in closer and closer. A week didn’t seem like enough time to fall for someone, but when you lived with them.. maybe it was just a little bit of enough. Leo leaned forward so that his nose could brush your own. He was as gentle with you now as he had been when he’d rescued you. Maybe that was why you felt a sudden addiction to him. He was the only one who’d been good to you. So very, very good to you.

“Kiss me.” He whispered hoarsely. Alcohol wasn’t to blame. Sadness wasn’t at fault. The want in your bellies and the desire in your brains was made the pair of you lean in simultaneously. It was a shy, brief peck at first, a test to see how it felt to press your lips against one another’s. And then it was a frenzy. His hand was hiking your dress up, vanishing beneath the thick material. Your hips were desperately sinking toward his own, so eager for some amount of friction. Your hands were in his hair and your body was rolled over and pressed against the bed. Neither one of you worried about the wedding ring he wore or the woman it bound him to. You were simply lost in the moment and in each other’s touches. Nothing could’ve stopped the two of you, not even Vasilli or his sudden banging on the front door.

———————————————————————

Tagged: @peakblogbecauseimweak @bsotstory @mollybegger-blog @morphoportis @ghost-of-student-sufferings @drippydownes2002 @ellar21 @sovereigngoth @willowick13 @xxxxxeroxxxxx @wheresthewater @anrm1 @pansexualginger @marvelgirl7 @evilspretty-dead @heyitscam99 @wow-he-cute @haroldpain @justrepostandlove @sparklyreaderx @emerald-bijou @multireality @innerpaperexpertcloud @giftofdreams @ihclipse @meer0rauschen @inkedfandom @crldrr @ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes

#tom hardy x reader #tom hardy imagine #leo demidov x reader #leo demidov imagine #child 44 fanfiction

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eleanor-writes-stuff · 6 years ago

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a language that i never knew existed before - Day 14

For @sofondabooks, who asked for a “modern AU where Ben is a frequent customer at the restaurant where Rey works. Little does she know he only goes there because of her”.

Fingers crossed you’re a fan of the Waffle House craze that’s swept this fandom, because the second I saw a restaurant-based prompt I just couldn’t help myself. I hope you enjoy this, and thank you for the prompt!

Fellow Reylos, ‘tis the season to get a holiday ficlet of your very own. Prompt me here!

25 Days of Reylo Also available on AO3

It takes Ben three days to build up the courage to use her name.

“Thanks, Rey,” he says as the graveyard shift waitress drops off his order, and it might be the single most difficult thing Ben’s done since he left home three weeks ago but fuck if it’s not worth all the self-doubt and clammy palms just to see the way her eyes light up when he addresses her.

“You’re very welcome, PB&C,” she replies with that smile of hers that’s nearly as blinding as the beckoning lights of the Waffle House they’re currently in, the brightest thing for miles and miles in this particular stretch of highway.

He’d caught a scribbled PB&C on her order pad when he first placed his order three nights ago, and yesterday when he’d walked in sometime after three in the morning the line cook had abruptly dropped his conversation with Rey to announce, in a very poor attempt at a whisper, that Mr. PB&C had returned. Ben’s not sure if his order is actually that noteworthy or if he’s the only customer whose name they don’t know, but either way he figures she deserves to know his name now that he’s used hers.

“It’s, um,” he musters the courage to speak up before she can tell him to enjoy his meal and walk off, and the look of pleasant surprise on her face gives him the push needs. “It’s Ben, actually. I’m Ben. Hi.”

Now would be a good time for the earth to open up and swallow him whole. At least he has the self-control to sit on his hands to prevent himself from accompanying that stupid, lame hi with a stupid, lame wave, as if he’s not being weird enough already.

But the judgmental look he’s waiting for never arrives, and instead Rey’s smile somehow grows softer, kinder. “Well then,” she says just as nine bright-eyed, slightly tipsy college kids barrel into the sleepy diner, signaling the end of the three-to-four lull. “Hi, Ben,” Rey tells him with the slightest hint of laughter in her voice even as the raucous group begins to clamber into booths and push tables together with no heed for the terrible screeching sound they’re causing. “I should go deal with that, but… I’ll see you tomorrow?”

He shouldn’t still be here tomorrow; hell, he shouldn’t still be here now. But it’s not like he actually has anywhere to be, and this sleepy sorta-town with its Super 8 and its dying strip mall and its welcoming Waffle House is better than driving aimlessly in an old truck that holds too many memories.

So Ben shrugs and tells her, “Yeah, see you then,” and promises himself that tomorrow will be the last day, that he’s not going to let himself get stuck in another dead-end town after all the trouble he went through to leave the last one.

It’s a doomed effort from the start.

“So, what’s your story?” Rey asks him on day twelve, sliding into his booth with a cup of tea and a plate of bacon. She’s allowed one fifteen-minute break every night, and sometime between him giving her his name and asking about her day, Rey decided to start spending it with him. That was four days ago, long enough for him to have realized – and accepted – the fact that he’s beginning to develop a crush for the very first time in his life at the ripe old age of twenty-two.

“Just your typical rich brat who ran away from home when he realized all the money in the world can’t make up for absentee parents,” Ben tells her with a practiced shrug because okay, fine, he’s been rehearsing this conversation in his mind for a while now. It was only a matter of time, of course, with Rey being as friendly as she is, and this is the closest he can get to the truth without revealing the fact that he still spends hours a day in his tiny motel room staring at his mother’s contact information, with one thumb hovering over the call button for what feels like hours on end.

Something tells him Rey figures it out anyway, the fact that the wound is fresher than he lets on. But she just smiles and digs into her food, says, “Ah, one of those,” between bites of crispy bacon with a knowing smile and kind eyes, and Ben thinks maybe he’ll stay a while longer after all.

On day twenty, he finally works up the courage to return the favor. “What’s your story?” he asks as they split a second order of peanut butter and chocolate waffles, the ones Rey used to tease him for ordering until he convinced her to try a bite.

“Oh, you know,” Rey shrugs, and her casualness isn’t nearly as rehearsed as his. “Hippie parents moved to an off-the-grid military base-turned-commune, died of alcohol poisoning, left me in the hands of the junkyard boss hired by the government to clear out the base. Just your typical orphan story.”

“Shit, Rey,” he hisses without thinking, and immediately drops his eyes to the table. “Sorry, I didn’t mean– that was rude of me, I’m sorry–”

“S’okay,” she tells him as she steals the last bite; he’s been letting her have it ever since the first time they shared food, anyway. “I mean, it’s a lot to take in. I’d be weirded out if you didn’t have a reaction.” And then, after a beat– “Anyway, I left a year ago, so it’s nothing. Feels like a different lifetime, even.”

The worst part is that he can’t figure out if she’s actually telling the truth. On the one hand, this is bright and sunny Rey who looks like nothing in the world could phase her; on the other, he’s seen a familiar haunted look in her eyes whenever she zones out for a minute. But she was kind enough not to push him when he shared his story, and Ben likes to think he can be kind too – for her, at least.

“A year ago?” he asks, and Rey shoots him a thankful smile as she leans back against the booth. “Have you been here ever since?”

She laughs, and Ben thinks he would happily stay in this odd little highway town for the rest of his life just for that sound. “Oh no, not at all. God, I’d be bored to tears if I stayed that long, I think. No,” Rey says as she begins to stack up their plates and cutlery, her fifteen minutes coming to an end. “I only arrived a week before you showed up, I think. See, when I left Jakku – that’s the base, by the way – I took a truck with me, ancient broken thing I’d been working on for years. The plan was to go where the wind takes me, drive from coast to coast to see what the world has to offer, that kind of thing, you know?”

Oh, he knows.

“But then the old thing broke down, so I’ve been stuck here ever since,” Rey laments with a sigh. “The town mechanic’s really sweet, he said I’m free to use the garage and whatever tools I need for free so long as I pay for the parts, but I’m beginning to worry that it might not be worth the trouble.”

“Why not?” Ben asks as she slides out of the booth and chugs down the last of her tea.

Rey gathers up their plates. “Something new keeps breaking every other day. Unless I can get another truck for cheap, it looks like I’m stuck here for now. I mean, there’s always hitchhiking,” she says, her nose scrunched up at the thought, “but I don’t know how I feel about getting into a stranger’s car–”

The words escape him before he’s even had time to form a plan. “I’m not a stranger.”

She stares at him for a beat, laughs despite the question on her face. “I know, Ben.”

His ears feel like they’re on fire, but the words keep coming anyway. “I mean– it’s not hitchhiking if you’re not strangers, right? It’d be more like… a road trip.”

“A road trip?” Rey echoes dubiously, a rare instance of her smile dimming as her features twist into something more thoughtful.

“Yeah, a road trip. Coast to coast, wherever the wind takes us, right? That’s what I was doing anyway, before I found you–”

And this, this is why he needs to keep his fucking mouth shut because now it’s too late, it’s out there and god, he can’t ever look her in the eye again–

“Ben?” she asks quietly, and with his eyes fixed firmly on the table he can see her shaking hand reaching for him, hesitantly landing on his forearm before she wraps her fingers around him and squeezes. “Ben,” Rey says again, waits for him to look up at her before she goes on. “It’s been three weeks. Why are you still here?”

There are a lot of things he could say: because the waffles are to die for, because I needed a break from driving, because you were laughing when I came in that first night and it made me want to smile for the first time since I made my mother cry–

Only that last one is true, and he can never, ever tell her that.

Or, well… not yet, anyway. Because the way Rey’s looking at him, with a plea in her eyes and her lips slightly parted in anticipation, makes him think that maybe this isn’t the end just yet, maybe there’s more to their story than this Waffle House in the middle of nowhere.

“I…” he takes a blind leap of faith, turns his hand around and laces their fingers together, draws courage from the tiny hint of a smile playing on Rey’s lips as she looks down at their intertwined hands. “I didn’t want to leave you.”

And somehow, those turn out to be the magic words.

. . .

It’s day twenty-seven, seven days since Rey put in her one-week notice out of sheer courtesy. He’s got a gas station map in his glove box, along with a Sharpie for her to chart their course, and Rey’s things sit in the backseat next to his, two lonely duffel bags that somehow look less sad next to each other.

Ben pulls into the empty gravel lot next to their Waffle House one last time, walks in to find Rey waiting for him at the bar with a plate of PB&C.

“To adventure,” she announces with a blinding smile, toasting him with a forkful of waffle.

He laughs, wraps one arm around her waist as he snags the waffle off her fork and muffles her indignant protests with a kiss. “To adventure,” Ben echoes with a smile of his own.

And to home, he can’t help but think as Rey leans in for another syrupy kiss.

This is nearly two thousand words and it's a world away from my original plan, but I'm... kinda okay with the way it turned out - even though Waffle House and the prompt word barely even figure in. Oops.

I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I did writing it, and thanks for stopping by! As usual, please don't hesitate to like/reblog/comment if you liked this.

#reylo #reyben #kylo ren/rey #rey/kylo ren #rey/ben solo #star wars #rey #ben solo #kylo ren #ficlet: language that i never knew #my fics

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tethrist · 6 years ago

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𝑪𝑯𝑨𝑹𝑨𝑪𝑻𝑬𝑹 𝑺𝑯𝑬𝑬𝑻

𝐛𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐬 !

FULL NAME . Varric Tethras NICKNAME . I guess “dwarf” counts GENDER . Cis male HEIGHT . 4′10″ AGE . 40 (start of Inquisition), 43 (Trespasser) ZODIAC . Virgo SPOKEN LANGUAGES . Common Tongue, basic Orlesian and Antivan, picked up exactly 4 Elven phrases from Daisy

𝐩𝐡𝐲𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐬 !

HAIR COLOR . Light auburn slowly but surely going gray EYE COLOR . Amber, with flecks of silver SKIN TONE . Pale BODY TYPE . Endomorph? He a dwarf ACCENT . Dwarven, as in, American VOICE . Low, raspy and warm. It doesn’t matter if you’ve only just met him, Varric's voice will make you believe he’s been your friend for years DOMINANT HAND . Right POSTURE . Laid back and flexible, ever adapting to his surroundings SCARS . Two on the face: one curled around the nose and another just below his right cheekbone. His hands and chest are covered in smaller scars as well TATTOOS . None BIRTHMARKS . Freckles probably don’t count, but I need the world to know they’re there MOST NOTICEABLE FEATURE(S) . The glorious chest hair, of course

𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐝 !

PLACE OF BIRTH . Kirkwall, Free Marches HOMETOWN . Kirkwall, Free Marches MANNER OF BIRTH . Nothing worth noting FIRST WORDS . “Mama” SIBLINGS . Bartrand Tethras (who’s either hospitalized or deceased) PARENTS . Andvar Tethras (deceased), Ilsa Tethras (deceased) PARENTAL INVOLVEMENT . His father died when he was 2. Orzammar had never been his home, so Varric spent much of his youth wondering why his family hated the man so much for dooming House Tethras to live on the surface. He claimed his father’s necklace when no one else wanted to keep it. His mother started drinking heavily after her husband’s passing, dying from a diseased liver when Varric hit 25 years of age. She wasn’t the best mother by any means but Varric loved her all the same. He wrote and read The Mercenary’s Price at her deathbed, and when she stopped breathing he threw it into the flames.

𝐚𝐝𝐮𝐥𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞 !

OCCUPATION . Writer, Head of House Tethras, Deshyr of Kirkwall to the Dwarven Merchants' Guild, Viscount of Kirkwall (potentially) CURRENT RESIDENCE . Skyhold, Kirkwall (potentially) CLOSE FRIENDS . The Kirkwall Squad! Uh, minus Anders? And Sebastian... It’s complicated RELATIONSHIP STATUS . That’s also complicated FINANCIAL STATUS . Wealthy DRIVER’S LICENSE . No CRIMINAL RECORD . How much time do you have VICES . Pride, Greed

𝐬𝐞𝐱 & 𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 !

SEXUAL ORIENTATION . Bisexual, heavy female preference ROMANTIC ORIENTATION . Biromantic, heavy female preference PREFERRED EMOTIONAL ROLE . submissive | dominant | switch PREFERRED SEXUAL ROLE . submissive | dominant | switch LIBIDO . Moderate TURN ON’S . Wit, kindness, independence TURN OFF’S . Pretentiousness, indifference LOVE LANGUAGE . Honesty RELATIONSHIP TENDENCIES . His eyes follow and linger for a second too long. His touches are softer, smiles kinder. If his SO needs or simply wants something he’ll find a way to get it for them, not caring to take credit. When Varric truly loves someone he lets them in, bares his heart and prays they won’t run off with a piece.

𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐞𝐨𝐮𝐬 !

CHARACTER’S THEME SONG . I’m Not Calling You a Liar by Florence + The Machine fits more and more as time goes by; I've recently discovered Starring Role by Marina and the Diamonds sums up his love life pretty well lmao HOBBIES TO PASS TIME . Writing, reading, gambling, making friends MENTAL ILLNESSES . Depression PHYSICAL ILLNESSES . None LEFT OR RIGHT BRAINED . Right brained PHOBIAS . Becoming his parents. Tight spaces ( like those dang Deep Roads ) aren’t exactly a phobia of his but they do make him very uncomfortable SELF CONFIDENCE LEVEL . Low VULNERABILITIES . Family

Tagged by: stole this from @righteoushand Tagging: anyone who wants to do this!!

#tw alcohol abuse #headcanons;

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little-chimchim · 6 years ago

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Sugar and Spice- Part 1

Rating: PG-13

Word Count: 3919

Genre: Chef au! Celebrity au!

Pairing: Mingyu x Wonwoo

A/N: Oh shiz, it’s been what, like five months since I’ve written a fic? Woah. I am so sorry for keeping you all waiting. So here it is! I know it’s an actually pairing instead of an OC this time, but I think you guys will enjoy this, I know I do. Thank you all for being patient, I love you all...Kay

Masterlist

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“What does cooking mean to you?” The talk show host asked, seemingly proud of herself by asking such an ‘original’ question. She straightened her back and leaned towards the man she had been interrogating for the past twenty minutes.

The man, void of any awkward tension, followed the host’s actions and moved toward the mic that had been thrust in his direction as he smiled cockily towards the camera. “Cooking, to me, is an art. I’m not just putting foods together at random for people to eat. No, I blend together ingredients to create masterpieces that people don’t just witness with their eyes, but to savor with their scent and taste as well. Cooking to me, is an art that can truly bring everyone together.” The man finished his answer by quickly winking towards the camera before turning back to the host.

There was a thunderous applause sounding from the audience, mostly consisting of teenage girls and their overbearing house mothers, all taking turns chanting the celebrity chef’s name.

On the other side of the camera, in front of a worn little t.v, tucked in between a refrigerator and shelf, sat six men, all staring at the man in the interview.

“There are only so many ways to look like a pompous idiot, and Chef is exhibiting every single one of them,” Griped the man in the middle. He shook his head, the long black strands of his hair falling into his eyes as he did so. The black haired man looked to the other men in the room, an evident frown on his face.

“Is someone jealous that they didn’t get to be on t.v. too?” Cracked the tallest of the men. Minghao, the man with the black hair, peeked over his shoulder in order to glare daggers at the man who opened his mouth.

Seokmin, the tallest of the men, only smiled towards Minghao, his eyes disappearing into half moons as the smile took over his lively features. “Sorry, Hao. You know that I’m just playing with you.” He cheered, trying his best to sound sincere towards the younger male.

Minghao rolled his eyes, knitting his fingers together in his lap. “At least it’s good business for the restaurant,” Hao grumbled. The dark haired man untied his fingers and pushed himself off of the creaky metal chair. He swept his gaze around the kitchen the focused his attention back to the men in the room.

“Chef should be getting back soon, let’s get things ready to open.”

Minghao, despite his young age, was the sous chef. Second in command. When Mingyu was not present, Minghao had no qualms with running the kitchen how he wanted it. Of course, because euro of this, it caused an almost friendly tension between the two chefs that was evident to everyone who laid eyes on the pair.

“Soonyoung, Seokmin, and Seungkwan go get the friers ready and start prepping the fish, we have salmon from last night to use.” Minghao barked at the three men huddled closest together.

The three of them nodded their heads and scurried off, just to finish the task Minghao had given them.

These three were the line cooks, a humorous bunch trained in the culinary arts. They were young, fresh out of top notch culinary schools, but naive and inexperienced. Though, to Mingyu, this only added to their appeal.

After giving the trio their orders, Minghao turned to the next man in line, the oldest in the kitchen. His features were much softer than Minghao’s, kinder too. A lighthearted smile played at his pink lips as Minghao approached him.

“Joshua, did you finish the icing for the strawberry tart?” Minghao asked, his voice half expectant, already knowing what the older man’s response would be. Joshua’s eyes lit up, he straightened his back and brought his hands to the tops of his hips.

“The icing is done and so are the chocolate cakes. I started on the creme brulee but I decided that we were going to do the cakes as our dessert special instead.” Joshua beamed as he spoke about his work.

Minghao nodded his head, reaching over to pat his elder’s shoulder. “Good work. I didn’t expect anything else.” The black haired man pressed his lips together into a thin smile, waving his hand at the older man signaling for him to go to his station.

Joshua bowed his head slightly before making his way back to the counters filled with goodies.

Minghao then turned his attention towards the last man. He was sitting patiently on a rickety wooden stool, his hands folded in his lap while he waited for Minghao’s orders. “Wonwoo, go scrub dishes we'll be using a lot of them tonight.” Minghao ordered as he turned around to man his own station.

Wonwoo stayed silent, not uttering a word as he nodded his head. He pushed himself off of the stool and sauntered towards the sinks, where plates and pans were already starting to stack up. He sucked in a deep breath, rolling his shirt up to his elbows before diving into the workload.

Wonwoo was different from the rest of the men in the restaurant. He did not attend some overly expensive culinary school in some remote European country, nor did he have the honor to actually prepare the food himself. Instead, he was charged with dishwashing and good prep; as was the life of the kitchen assistant.

No one truly knew anything about the young assistant, other than his name and that never said no to anyone in the kitchen. He was a peculiar man, no doubt about it, but after a year of working for Mingyu, everyone stopped questioning him and left him to his own devices.

Of course, the troublesome trio of Seokmin, Soonyoung, and Seungkwan couldn’t just leave it at that. They spent their days trying to figure the quiet assistant out, oftentimes terrorizing the poor man until he actually says something about their antics.

The mediator of everything was the ever innocent Joshua, who had, on multiple occasions, tried to befriend the quiet assistant. Though, with no avail.

No matter what, Jeon Wonwoo had always been the kitchen’s biggest mystery.

Later that night, shortly after the brunt of the kitchen rush had died away, the man of the hour walked through the doors of the restaurant. Mingyu strode into his kitchen, smiling at all of the customers along the way.

He was clad in fine clothing, and if everyone didn’t know better, he could easily be mistaken for something other than a world class chef.

Except, he was.

Kim Mingyu, former child actor turned celebrity chef and tv personality. Not exactly the turn of events most people expected when it came to child stars. Though, when Mingyu found that his passion didn’t lie with acting, he turned around and turned his true passion into a career.

He walked through the building with an aura that screamed confidence. He held his head up high with a smile on his lips so bright that the sun would have been jealous. Once he came through the kitchen, all time seemed to stop.

Everyone paused what they were doing to look at Mingyu. Minghao, having been working on the main entrees, was the first to speak to the chef. “Hello Chef,” He exclaimed loudly as he bent his body forward.

Soon after, everyone else in the kitchen followed Minghao’s brief introduction to their boss. Mingyu, satisfied with the greeting, pressed his lips together into a thin smile and waved his hand at Minghao for him to continue. “It looks like you guys have done a good job while I was gone. I’m impressed.” Mingyu stepped through the kitchen, walking passed the rest of the employees. He brought his hand up to his mouth and yawned, visibly tired from the day’s public adventure.

“I’m heading upstairs, I’m exhausted.” Was all Mingyu said before he started to make his way towards the stairs that led to his apartment above the restaurant.

When he reached the top of the stairs, Mingyu looked back down to his employees and caught their attention. “Close up early tonight, you all deserve it. See you tomorrow.” He added as he stepped away.

The kitchen staff looked amongst themselves and nodded their heads, pleased with their boss’s generosity. Minghao returned back to his dish, a warm smile on his face. “Alright everyone, you heard the man. Let’s get out of here.” He cheered while he finished up the last of his plates.

Wonwoo was the last one inside the kitchen. The dishes kept piling up, even after the rest of the kitchen had left. He wished to go home, but he wasn’t allowed to until the entirety of the kitchen was spotless.

This was his favorite time of the night, when everyone was gone and he had the entire kitchen to himself. It was calming, not having to deal with everyone else and being able to do his own thing, at his own pace.

This was also the time of night where he could prepare his own food, without being yelled at for touching the stove.

Contrary to what everyone else believed, Wonwoo loved to cook. When Mingyu hired him just a year prior, he believed that he was being hired in as a line cook. He was greatly disappointed to find out what his actual role entailed, but a job was a job and Wonwoo had bills to pay.

So he sucked it up and kept to himself, in hopes that he would be moved up one day.

Wonwoo wiped his wet hands on the rough fabric of his dark blue jeans. He stretched his arms over his head and grunted the moment his joints popped. He rubbed his tired eyes then stepped away from the sinks.

He roamed the empty kitchen curiously as he examined the cabinets and coolers for ingredients for tonight's meal. He combed throw his various choices before finally settling on the ingredients for a basic pasta dish that was easy enough for a toddler to replicate.

He had prepared far trickier dishes, but tonight, all he wanted to do was go home with a full meal and enough time to sleep before having to come right back in to the kitchen.

Wonwoo, ever the perfectionist, laid his ingredients out in neat lines, organizing them in the order that he would use them. He grinned to himself, an action he so rarely expressed, and began his work.

He flew through the steps, completing it all with ease. He found joy in even the simple dishes. Cutting a tomato wasn't just another boring step. Every detail mattered to him.

In fact, he became so enthralled by the cooking process that he wasn't fully aware with how loud he was being, as he was so lost in his own world.

Usually, using the kitchen after the restaurant was closed was no problem. He was able to go in, get the ingredients and start cooking with no setbacks. It had been a year without being found out.

Though, Wonwoo had gotten a little too comfortable in the empty space of the kitchen. He was so used to being unbothered in these rare few minutes alone, that he hadn't heard someone tiptoeing down the stairs and into the little space.

“Mince the onions instead of chopping them. It's easier to eat it that way.” Spoke a soft voice from the other side of the room.

Wonwoo jumped, dropping the onion he had been holding on to the ground. His heart rate picked up as he turned his head to face the owner of the voice.

He stood up straighter and placed his hands at his sides, his almost military trained, blank expression back on his face.

Mingyu made his way into the kitchen. He glanced around the area, examining everything Wonwoo had been doing. “Carbonara?” Mingyu asked, peering down into the pot of boiled noodles and spices.

Wonwoo slowly nodded his head, his face void of expression. “Yes sir,” He bellowed clearly. Mingyu raised his brow in curiosity as he looked closer at the dish in front if him. “Well I can already tell that you're going to need more cheese. It's not nearly thick enough,” Mingyu began.

The young chef reached over to grab the nearest utensil, the spoon Wonwoo had used to stir the pasta. Mingyu dipped the spoon into the pan and brought it to his lips. Mingyu stuck his tongue out to taste the sauce Wonwoo had doused his noodles in.

The was a stale silence in the air as Wonwoo waited for Mingyu to say something. He cursed himself under his breath for being loud enough to wake Mingyu up all the way in his upstairs apartment.

His heart was beating painfully inside his chest while he waited for the chef to make up his mind about liking his dish. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Mingyu finally started to talk. “It’s not bad. There’s just a tad too much salt, and too little sauce. But the taste, for being so simple, is not bad at all.” Mingyu muttered as he overanalyzed what was supposed to be Wonwoo’s dinner.

Mingyu set the spoon back down on the counter and turned around to face Wonwoo. He pointed his finger at the older man, a smile bright on his cheery features. “You made this?” In response, Wonwoo furiously nodded his head, his lips sealed together.

Mingyu raised his brows in curiosity. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his grey sweatpants and casually stepped closer to the silent man “Do you usually come down to cook?”

Again, the silent nodding.

Mingyu let out a breathy laugh and shook his head. “If I had known that you could cook, I'd have tried to help you much sooner. You're not bad I'm quite impressed actually. I'd say that you could easily, with a little bit of help, be on the same level as those trio of dummies that run my line.”

Wonwoo shook his head this time, “I'm not that good,” he mumbled timidly. He tied his fingers together and rocked on his heels, trying to find ways to escape this conversation.

Mingyu raised his hand and extended his finger to point at Wonwoo. “And that's where you're wrong. You have potential and I want to be the one to bring it out of you.”

Wonwoo only stared at Mingyu as he tried to understand what he was saying. This is the most Wonwoo had ever talked to Mingyu and he was already blurting nonsense about teaching him how to cook.

Mingyu lowered his hand and cleared his throat. “What I'm trying to say is that I see potential in you and I'm willing to work with you, after hours, to get you to a point where you can cook with us. How does that sound?”

Wonwoo was speechless. Yet somehow, unconsciously, he nodded his head and agreed to Mingyus offer.

Mingyu grinned, reaching over to grab Wonwoos shoulder and hold it tightly. “Great, we'll start tomorrow night.” The chef looked around his messy kitchen and chuckled. “Finish up here then head home, you have a long day tomorrow.” He said as he started his stride up the stairs.

Wonwoo furrowed his brows but shook away his confusion as he strived to finish his project.

“Mince the parsley into fine pieces. It always looks better when you use it to garnish your meals afterwards.” Mingyu stood over Wonwoos shoulder, watching his every move with hawk-like vigor.

Wonwoos shoulders constricted and tightened the closer Mingyu came to him. He moved his knife across the cutting board, doing exactly what Mingyu instructed him to do with almost frightening ease and accuracy.

“Give me the knife” Mingyu interjected from behind. Wonwoo froze, the knife still a centimeter in the air. “What?” Wonwoo asked in a low, breathy voice.

“Give me the knife. You're so nervous that even I want to tense up. You're going to cut yourself.” Mingyu plucked the knife from Wonwoos hand and set it back down safely. Mingyu inched back away from Wonwoo and let out a defeated sigh.

“Do I scare you that much? Every time I come near you, you tense up and become as stiff as a statue.” Mingyu sounded hurt by the fact that Wonwoo was so nervous to be around him, but the mere fact also made him curious.

Wonwoo merely shook his head. He brought his now free hand up to adjust his wire rimmed glasses that sat neatly on his nose. “I’m just not very fond of talking.” The older man mumbled as he reached over to grab the knife Mingyu had taken from him.

Mingyu half smiled, crossing his arms over his chest. He leaned back and watched Wonwoo’s every move, from his knife strokes to the way he bit his lip in concentration. He was intrigued, watching the man before him as if he had never seen him before.

“Do you talk with anyone else in the kitchen?” Mingyu asked, raising his tone an extra octave to seem friendlier. Wonwoo sighed and pushed the finished parsley to the side of the cutting board.

“Sometimes Joshua. But I’m not very close with him.” Muttered Wonwoo as he focused on the next task at hand. He picked up a tomato, examining it carefully before he started to dice it into small cubes.

Though, Mingyu was no longer interested in the kitchen, or really anything pertaining to the food anymore. Wonwoo had caught his interest and it was going to take a lot to shake him out of it.

“Why don’t you talk to anyone e- “

Mingyu was cut off by Wonwoo dropping the knife on to the counter. “I think that’s enough for tonight. We have to be up tomorrow fairly early, so I think it’s best if we both went home.” Wonwoo scurried around, trying to put everything away as quickly as he could.

And before he knew it, Wonwoo was walking away, taking long strides towards the exit, leaving Mingyu to question what exactly had just happened.

It had been a week after the lessons had begun with Wonwoo, and Mingyu was on the prowl to obtain more information about his star pupil. He had mulled over the words he had said, contemplating whether or not he should go through with his plan to ask Joshua about the quiet kitchen assistant.

In the end, he voted in favor with doing so.

It was in the middle of the day, the quiet transition from lunch to dinner, when Mingyu approached Joshua.

He had carried various vegetables over to a workstation, where Joshua held deep concentration in the cake that he was decorating. He hummed a song to himself, too enthralled with his work to notice his surroundings around him.

Mingyu rolled the vegetables on to the counter and tapped Joshua on the shoulder.

The older man flinched, obviously startled by the sudden interruption of his thoughts. He turned around quickly to see who the culprit was. He had expected Seokmin or even Minghao to be behind him, not Mingyu, who stood too close in the cozy space.

“Hi Chef,” Joshua said warily, wondering why Mingyu had suddenly come up to speak with him. Mingyu smiled, his smile flashing like a diamond. “Hey Josh.” He said, trying to sound as light and bubbly as possible.

Joshua furrowed his brows and nodded his head, “What are you doing over here? You never come over.” Joshua said warily, switching his attention from the chef to the vegetables that sat on the counter.

Mingyu shook his head, taking one of the knives from the shelves to begin his prep. “I came to ask a couple of questions.” He said blatantly.

Joshua nodded, going back to decorating his cake. “Okay, shoot.”

Mingyu, taking a deep breath, started to cut into a leak as he thought of what to say. “What do you know of Wonwoo?”

Joshua halted his icing, stunned by the curious question. “Why do you want to know?” He asked in response, wondering why the chef was suddenly so intrigued by the kitchen assistant.

Mingyu shook his head, not tearing his eyes away from the leaks. “I was just wondering about it. I don’t know anything abo- “

“Why are you suddenly so interested in Wonwoo?” Joshua questioned, speaking in a low, hushed tone. He was afraid that one of the other kitchen members would pick up on the almost sacred conversation.

Mingyu shrugged his broad shoulders casually as he focused his attention on the leak in front of him, feigning fake disinterest. “He’s on of my employees. Shouldn’t I be curious about who they are?” He said with a breathy laugh, as if he had no other intentions behind this conversation.

Joshua raised a brow, staring at his boss curiously. “He’s worked here a year, and not once have you ever bothered to ‘know more about him’ so what suddenly peaked your interest?” Joshua raised his voice a bit, going from a soft whisper to an almost loud mumble.

Mingyu shook his head, grinning at the young pastry chef. “No reason really, what do you know of him?” He asked the question once more.

Joshua pursed his lips into a thin line, turning away from Mingyu and focusing back on the cake in front of him. “I know that he likes chocolate, cats, and books. I also know that he’s not going to be one of your ditsy playthings that you tote around so carelessly.” Joshua grumbled. The older man quickened his movements around the cake, embellishing the décor at rapid speed as he spoke the harsh words to Mingyu.

Mingyu stared at Joshua in awe. Not once had one of his employees ever spoke to him like that. He was caught of guard by his words, but he couldn’t blame him for saying them. He crossed his arms over his chest and shook his head slowly. “And what if he was to become one of my so called ‘playthings’?” Mingyu teased, scrunching his fingers up into quotations.

Joshua set down his frosting pipe, fully turning towards the chef. “Why would you use him like that? It’s sick a-“

Mingyu held up a finger to silence him. “It’s a good thing that I don’t plan on it. I see potential in Wonwoo and I plan on training him for the kitchen. I wanted to know more about him before I made a decision.”

Joshua blinked his surprise away, his face flushed red from embarrassment. “You just want to train him for the kitchen?” He repeated Mingyu’s statement, making sure that he heard him correctly.

Mingyu nodded his head, drawing his finger away from Joshua’s mouth. “Yes, nothing more, nothing less.” The chef grabbed his supplies from the kitchen counter and collected them in his arms. Though, before he left, he leaned in to the flustered Joshua, smirking.

“Though, by your reaction, you might be hiding a little something.” He whispered before turning away, walking towards his station at the center of the kitchen.

“Hey Wonwoo, can you chop these for me?” He called out as he got back to work.

Joshua, still staring at the empty space where Mingyu had stood, shaking his head of protruding thoughts and forced himself to get back to work.

Wonwoo soon came rushing past, answering to Mingyu’s every beck and call.

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shewhowasbornlucky · 6 years ago

Text

fortunata iv

Death would have been kinder. It was a reality that was no strange to her. Azula knows this as she knows the sun rises on the West and sets on the East. As she knows she misses her father, and her palace. And even that useless, traitor, coward brother of hers. She also knows kindness was never something she simply had – it was something she had to win. Had to fight over.

But she had tried. Tried so many times she was starting to lose count. So many times, her protectors were getting worried. And she no longer could go outside without a shadow.

She came close. Too fucking close, she was coughing blood and her vision was all red. So fucking close, her lids were heavy and the air was failing her. So close she saw her mother’s eyes looking right through her. “Dear child of mine, what have you done?” Ursa had said, and her voice sounded so real, so close. Even worried. So close…

Azula almost felt guilty. Almost. She felt her mother cupping her face, running her delicate hands around her cheeks–always soft, always pure; a daintiness to them that could only be compared to that of fire lilies – and suddenly it was worth it. “Open your eyes, child of mine. I’m here now.” And Azula kicked, and huffed, and actually groaned, but Ursa didn’t move. Didn’t flinch. She kept her soft caresses – something out of a dream. The sun glowed behind her, almost like a halo. She wanted to laugh, but she didn’t have the strength to do it.

“I’m here now, sweetest child. I’m here.”

And a dream it was, Azula found once she finally opened her eyes a few days later. She was in a different room. That one was almost empty, save for the small chair at the end of the bed. There were no windows.

Death would have been kinder.

She didn’t want to go without seeing the sun first. One last time. Azula needed to feel the power that was stripped from her. The source of her strength. The star that gave her life.

Death would have been kinder.

“How’s she?” she heard a voice outside her room, hushed whispers, and heavy breathing. “I need to see her!” the voice pressed, and it sounded almost desperate. Azula shut her eyes close. It was too loud, too loud, too familiar. “How come you didn’t know she was…?!” there was only silence. Or not. Azula couldn’t hear what the other person was saying. They weren’t as loud as the man. “She could’ve died!”, he almost roared, and Azula actually flinched in her bed. “Let me see her.”

“I said, let me see her,” the voice went on. “It is an order from your Fire Lord! Let me see Princess Azula!”

An order from your Fire Lord. Zuko, Azula thought, with a chill traveling down her body. She wanted to run away. Needed to go as far as possible. Zuko was there. Zuko was there. Zuko was there and she had tried to kill herself. What else could he take from her? What was he doing? She had no time. No desire to look at him. No amount of power to deal with his pity, less with his indifference.

She wasn’t strong enough.

The door opened, and she stared, wide-eyed.

“Azula,” he breathed, and her hands started shaking. He looked at her –right through her – and she felt cold. His eyes traveled from her face to the bandages in her body, and his brow furrowed. ‘Azula, what have you done?’ seemed written all over his features, but he didn’t say a thing. Azula thought he was unable to speak.

And then, she noticed the second figure. A tall woman that had her arm linked with his. Stoic face and stormy eyes she knew too well. Azula could’ve sworn she actually shivered, but she couldn’t know. She hadn’t seen Mai in ages.

“Sister,” Zuko said, and he clumsily offered a small bow. “H-how are you feeling?”

“Spare me the pleasantries,” Azula managed to say hoarsely, her throat dry and closed. He didn’t answer. “I’m alright.”

There was a knot she couldn’t ignore, and it was starting to hurt. It was too much, too much, too much. She couldn’t stand looking into his eyes. He looked so much like Father – and yet he was nothing like him. His horrified look was not doing any good to her. Years had passed, and she could barely recognize her big brother in the tall figure that was now at her door. He was still awkward, she noticed, but there was something graceful about him. A regal air to his very moves. She studied him in silence, and he did the same. Amber eyes looking for a threat.

Years had passed, and he hadn’t visited even once. He had left her –abandoned her! – just after stripping her very identity from her. Just after destroying her life. And he dared to come back! Azula was shaking, and there was no medicine that could help her. “I would bow… but I’m afraid I’m not feeling like it.” ‘Usurper’ was left floating through the small room, a word not pronounced but implied nonetheless. A sharp edge. A bitter revenge.

“It’s okay,” he shrugged, resting importance to her statement with a nonchalant gesture of his hand. His free one. The one that wasn’t intertwined with Mai’s. His eyes never left her.

“What are you doing here?” Azula asked, sharp and broken. It was better to end it as soon as possible.

“I know what you did, Azula,” he ignored her, taking a step forward. Azula clenched her jaw. “They sent after me. They said—Azula they said –”

Death would have been kinder.

“It’s not true,” she replied, suddenly too invested in her fingernails.

“There’s no use in denying it,” Mai shot, and Azula sneered.

“You don’t get to tell me –”

“Enough!” Zuko said, shooting her a look. He glanced at Mai, who nodded softly. The tall woman was soon gone, leaving a trace of red roses in the air. Melancholy and shame filled Azula. “Why.”

“Why what, dummy?” she asked, arching an eyebrow.

“Why did you do it?” he asked, crossing his arms.

“Why do you care?”

“I don’t.”

“Then go. I have no desire to—”

“You hurt me. You hurt me for so long…”

“You took my bending from me!”

“It wasn’t me. It was –”

“The Avatar, yes. But who told him to?”

“Azula, it was all for the best –” he started, brows furrowed.

“Go fuck yourself.”

“You almost died!” Zuko said, fixing her with a glance.

“And I should have! You should’ve killed me, but you’re nothing but a bunch of useless, brainless idiots!”

“Don’t say that,” he shook his head, his lips in a thin line.

“You said I hurt you. I did. And I feel no remorse,” she said in a small voice, her eyes locked on his. She felt his fire, and her resolution grew stronger. She didn’t need his pity just as she didn’t need his love. “So come on now! Show me you’re better. Show me you’re worthy of your title, usurper!”

“No,” he replied, and he seemed calmed save for his tormented eyes.

“You see? You can’t do it because you’re nothing but a scared kid! The same one that offended our father with his very existence! You’re a waste of space. No honor will—”

“It won’t work, Azula.”

“You’re nothing but a coward. A traitor! A disappointment for our nation –” she started, but her broken sobs betrayed her. She was pushing him away, and it wasn’t working! Azula needed her loneliness. Needed his distance. But he did nothing but keep on looking at her –with that look that reminded her of Father – and that calmness she could only envy… it was taking everything in her not to give in. Not to cry out like the scared child she was. “Coward! Traitor!” she almost yelled, trembling with the force of her shedding tears.

“It was for the best,” he repeated, sitting right beside her. He took her hand in his, and a pained look crossed his eyes once he noticed her thinness.

“Then kill me. Kill me, please. I can’t – I can’t deal with this any longer!”

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered, and he seemed so lost she wanted to hit him.

“You’re not,” she shot back without knowing if she wanted to convince him or herself.

“It’s been so long. You’re still my sister. I can’t leave you behind anymore.”

“You’re a fool!”

“And so are you,” he shot back. “I can’t forgive you for what you did. Not today, at least. But I don’t want you to die. I want to help you. That’s why you’re here. That’s why—”

“You can’t help me.”

“You were a victim just as I was,” he said, and his grab on her hands grew stronger. “I know it took you longer to understand but—”

“I do not regret anything I did,” she said with a shiver, forcing herself to look into his eyes. He needed to believe it. He needed to go. She wasn’t strong enough to lose anymore.

“You do,” he replied, softer this time.

“And so fucking what?!” her frustration was unbearable, and her wild eyes hurt. “I still did it! I almost killed you, and I would’ve laughed if I did! I threatened your wife. I threatened your friends!”

“You’re my sister,” he said, simply.

“A sister that stood by while Father burned you. A sister that –”

“Do you love me?” he asked, an eyebrow arched.

Azula couldn’t answer. She couldn’t even look into his eyes anymore. She opened her mouth. Prepared the lie she was going to tell. She could almost savor the pain in his eyes. The disappointment. But she found she couldn’t do it. Azula couldn’t answer. Her muffled cries filled the room. It was the closest he’d get to an honest reply from her, and he knew that.

“We’ll work through this,” he said, and he hugged her close to him. That’s what Ursa would’ve wanted. That’s what Uncle had taught him. He saw good in her eyes –her fear latent and powerful, her pain an open wound – and he was going to cling to it.

i wanted to write one with them so fucking bad :( i love them so, so much! i need them to sort their shit out and be good siblings already mhmm

#azula #princess azula #zuko #prince zuko #atla #atla fanfiction #azula fanfiction #tw: suicide #tw: child abuse #just siblings trying to fix their complicated relationship #i personally don't think zuko would forgive her just like that #it must've been painful for him too #so it'd take a while #but he's worried about her #and he might be kinda annoyed by it #but she's his sister #and as much as he might resent her he doesn't want her dead #also paternity is taking its toll on him #i believe haha #this one happens 5-7 years after the final i guess #i headcanon mai is pregnant with izumi at this time #i also headcanon that by this time she's doing kind of better in the sense #that she's not proud of what she's done #and its regret what pushes her to try and take her life #it doesn't help that zuko goes to visit her #she's punched with the memories #she has tried to forget

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ko-fanatic · 6 years ago

Text

A Young Ootori’s Notebook (part four)

Rating: Explicit / Mature (for series as a whole)

Fandom: Ouran High School Host Club

Relationships: Kyoya & hosts, mentioned Yoshio Ootori x Yuzuru Suoh

Trigger Warnings: Drug abuse/addiction, depression, suicidal thoughts, suicide attempt, self harm

Summary: He feels like he's both laughing and crying at himself, truth written in odd contradictions and stranger than fiction. It oddly fits him.

No knowledge of A Young Doctor’s Notebook needed.

Other parts of this series: Part one | Part two | Part three

"You were depressed?"

Haruhi's voice cut through the silence of the club room, even Kyoya turning his tired, bloodshot gaze to her. Her brow was furrowed, head tilted to the side in confusion, something a little too close to hurt marring her features. It wasn't the done thing to upset Haruhi; the club was made up of six boys who would do anything to see her happy, even if their willingness to admit that varied. He saw Haruhi as a little sister, especially with all the comments Ranka had made about adopting him - God rest that beautiful soul. Therefore, the sight of her upset was one that made him feel... guilty.

Contrary to popular belief, Kyoya Ootori did in fact have both feelings and a conscience. He was one of those boys who used to bawl their eyes out if they disappointed any adult in the vicinity, even if he had grown out of that by the second year of elementary school. He didn't like hurting people. He always hated it when his mother asked him about friends and, when he replied that he only had associates, she would give him that sad, knowing smile; she knew it meant "I don't have any friends".

Despite his age, despite all their ages, it was like the crease between Haruhi's eyebrows were a punch to the gut.

"You had us. You didn't say anything," Tamaki continued when Haruhi seemed to be at a loss for what to say. His hand clasped her shoulder, a tangible reminder that he was there to support her, and Kyoya felt some distant sadness at the gesture. Almost fifty, and no one to give him the same gesture; the closest thing to a chest to lay his head on and two strong arms to hold him was a bottle of pills, a vial of morphine, and syringes. Pathetic.

"There was no point mentioning it," He began, feeling the tension of the room increase tenfold with that comment, "I just... I wasn't going to jump off the nearest building. I was just numb. Tired. Unmotivated. There was no use talking about it, because there wasn't anything you could do. I just needed the anti-depressants."

Looks were shared, and Kyoya couldn't help but feel as if he must have missed something. It was like they were seeing something so clearly, even though he couldn't perceive it at all. He didn't know what the looks meant, but he knew they'd tell him soon enough - even if he didn't want to know.

"You know that meds... Only go so far, right?" Kaoru began tentatively, eyes wide and sad, a slight glaze over them. If Haruhi's hurt look made him feel like he'd been punched, Kaoru's was like getting shot. Still, he couldn't make himself speak up, couldn't say the words he always thought and never said, because they weren't what Kyoya Ootori was supposed to be; he didn't want to be a burden.

"I was there, Kyoya," Kaoru began once again, his voice thick with tears that made Kyoya dig his too-long nails into his wrist - hard. He hurt him. He hurt them all, "You could've picked up the phone, texted, emailed. Fuck, I was always there, and you didn't even send me a single word. Not even a hello."

He was a horrible person, really. They were right when they called him a demon, evil, anything like that. His wrists stung, something warm trailing sluggishly down his arm, but he only tightened his grip. He deserved it. He deserved the pain like he deserved his life crashing down around him. Karma. He brought it on him-fucking-self because... Happiness was too hard for him.

Large, strong hands pulled his bony one away from his wrist, calloused thumb brushing away the thin track of blood that ran down from violently crimson marks. Kyoya just bit his lip, feeling undeniably small in Mori’s soft grip, forcing himself to look at that concerned expression. This is what he does. He worries people over nothing.

“Don’t hurt yourself,” Mori murmurs, voice low and rumbling, and Kyoya vaguely remembers putting his hand down his boxers and moaning as he thought of that voice telling him how good he was, how beautiful. He was a horny little shit as a teenager, not that anyone knew, but it was still something he felt guilty about. Friends shouldn’t think about friends that way, and Mori would be disgusted if he knew.

He just nodded vaguely in response, turning back down to the non-judgmental, impartial floor once again. He could stand looking at the polished floor much easier than his worried, disappointed friends, after all. Not that he could blame them; this was never meant to happen. After all, the pills were working alright when he first had them.

However, these things never seem to last…

The room was trashed. That was the first thing he noticed when his consciousness slowly reappeared, the last who-knew-how-long a blur and too intangible to take a hold of. It was all far too strange, and the mess in his once pristine apartment was almost overwhelming. There was so much to pick up, so much to clean, so much to fix. It was like the strewn and discarded belongs were slowly piling on his back, weighing him down and crushing his rib cage.

The mirror was smashed. The cracks running across the glass seemed almost like a spider's web, drawing him in and making his gaze stick to the centre, the only thing he could do was to wait for something wholly unpleasant to come along. It was a shame too, a nice thing that was good craftsmanship, but it could be replaced. It could all be replaced, because it wasn't special. Nothing in this room was; it was expensive, but uniform. Black and whites that looked like a carbon copy of some magazine. A home that was too cold and sterile, too replicable, to ever feel cosy.

Even his blood could be easily replaced, he reminded himself as he finally felt it trail down his fist, warm and wet. He could be replaced in his entirety, actually; he was just as uniform as the apartment's furniture. He wasn't sure why anyone would want a carbon copy of pathetic, cruel, evil Kyoya, though. An improved version, perhaps; prettier, kinder, softer, better. He was a spare of a spare, an accident, so he could understand the want to have him be something else; he just felt as if he couldn't change himself.

He tried, after all. The pills were meant to make him happy, but all they did was provide some temporary relief - and some side effects. He couldn't eat properly, his usual jeans and hoodie he wore for lectures hanging off him more than usual. He woke up with numbness that prevented him from simply standing. He was nauseous, constantly. To crown it all, this was another bad day of a bad week of a bad month.

“We get it already,” The old man groaned, and Kyoya gritted his teeth, feeling as if he might punch the man in the face, “Angst, angst, angst. I’m Kyoya Ootori and my life fucking sucks, despite having more than anyone can ever want. This isn’t enough, you feel empty and unfulfilled, so you’re going to take it out on the furniture. Very mature.”

“Will you just… leave me alone,” He grumbled, scrubbing a hand over his face and trying to think about how he should even start to tidy up the chaos. He should probably shave before his next lecture, there was the pickle of stubble against his palms. Honestly, it all seemed like such a big chore. All he wanted to do was go to bed and sleep, but he hadn’t even been awake for an hour, and he slept entirely too much the night before. Not to mention the few days before that. He either slept for around fifteen hours or didn’t at all, and the yoyoing between the two was exhausting all by itself. Still, he couldn’t bend to that exhaustion, he couldn’t leave his apartment in this state.

“No, you can’t,” The old man sighed, “If you’re so intent on living in a pigsty and becoming a worthless procrastinator, then go ahead. However, if you want to do the sensible thing and fix this, then you should go to the doctor. You have the privilege of being able to go for the smallest of quibbles, so take advantage. What good is being rich and having an excess of time if you don’t use it to better yourself?”

“What about yourself?” He scoffed, shooting a glare at the man, lip pulled into an almost feral snarl, “You don’t do anything! You only sit there and critique how I live my damn life, looking as if you’re about to drop dead! I’ve had enough of the constant assaults against my character, my choices… Why don’t you bugger off and leave me be!”

The man leaned forwards, elbows against his knees, studying him as if he were only a sample under a microscope. Something to be examined and dissected. His expression was odd, somehow managing to be both humoured and humourless; contradictory and unsure. Something in his chest shrank, reminded of his father before Yuzuru managed to thaw him a little, and the man cracked a misplaced grin.

“You do know that I can’t do that, don’t you?” He began, grey eyes tearing apart every twitching muscle and crease in his expression, “I can’t leave you, much like you can’t leave me. I’m in your head, and you’re in mine. This is some odd plane between reality and actuality. Between past and future, but not present.”

The explanation unsettled him, but he didn’t question it. He didn’t do anything more than shutting the door behind him before falling into bed. The mess would be there tomorrow.

Maybe he could find his sanity there too.

#ouran high school host club #ohshc #kyoya ootori #a young ootori's notebook series #my fanfiction

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thebluesberries · 3 years ago

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NICOLAE RAULF GRECU

Nickname(s): Nico, Nic

Birthday: Dec 13th

Gender: Cismale (He/Him)

Age: Twenty

Sexuality: Pansexual

Height: 6’0’ | 180cm

Hometown: Constanța, Romania

Parentage: Phobos, God of Fear

Hex: #4F0000

AESTHETIC

Sharp, angular features and calculating dark-brown eyes, Nico's appearance is anything but soft. His brown hair is often tousled in a lazy, yet styled fashion. Standing two inches over six feet, the young man's form remains that of one perpetually in shape. The demigod is nothing short of handsome, and he is very aware of this idea. Nicolae adorns himself in dark colors most of the time. Call it cliche but it has always been his go-to. His style is classy and understated, and can often pull off his most overdressed and underdressed looks in the utmost way.

PERSONALITY

Nicolae Grecu, nothing more than a sad, lonely, estranged child of Phobos. How embarrassing. He can perfectly picture the disappointment on his father's face as he learns his only son is a sliver of the terror his name has lived up to be. For starters, Nico isn't evil. He's just bored. After all he's not a shiny, perfect golden boy riding a chariot to kiss the God's asses. His father is the embodiment of fear, he's not exactly popular amongst his peers. Instead of wallowing in self pity about that fact, he's accepted it. Still, Nicolae is dangerous, or that's at least one way to put it. A voice that practically oozes poison and a careful smirk that promises nothing good, and still there's something about him that draws in even the most innocent of people. To him, life on Earth is nothing more than a cruel game that he intends to play, and win. For the most part Nico's darkness is one that he can't nor wants to control. Seeing that his father is the son of Ares, it's no surprise he picked up the family trait for anger. Nico is highly manipulative, and is an expert at manipulation, deception, trickery and lies. Hi is not afraid to do whatever it takes to get what he wants. His ability to get into the mind's of other's is frightening, and seeing as how he knows everyone's deepest fears it is increasingly easily. He is known to be a rather shady individual amongst the others, consistently dealing in underhanded insults and torturing even the most steely-minded campmates with his mind games. It's a surprise he hasn't been chased out. But then again, there's something about him that keeps everyone coming back (well a little over half). Shockingly, he is one of the most romantic individuals one might come across. Even if the gestures are more often than not for his own benefit. He is a "shameless flirt" and has had his fair share of meaningless flings. However, sometimes almost never, he'll let a softer side of him show. He isn't, after all, a complete asshole, no matter what anyone says or thinks of him. He's got his ups, as well as his downs, and usually with the right person there's a chance to catch the passionate soul hiding underneath the devilish demeanor. Usually, under the influence of alcohol or something worse; unlike most he seemingly gets kinder when he's intoxicated. He handles things with a certain level of casualness, courteousness and grace that is as savage and dangerous as it is beautiful and remarkable. But most of this is just a mask. Under it, all there's a soul that's scared. The son of fear is scared. Scared of what will maybe never come to be. More than anything he just want to feel needed, Nico needs a purpose and is dangerous without one. Being at camp has tied him to others emotionally more than he'd ever like to admit. He hides his need for love and affection, something he's never received willingly, but something he's always wanted. Fear has a large shadow, but he himself is quite small.

ATTRIBUTES

likes. for the most part Nico loves feeling in control and sure of his situations ∙ he enjoys any kind of aphrodisiac, such as chocolates and roses (he is quite the romancer) ∙ sex, need he explain? ∙ he loves to party, mortal/mundane entertainment has always been a favorite pastime of his ∙ he often enjoys stargazing, but this is something not a lot of people know about him ∙ he lives a life of and loves luxury, and will settle for nothing less ∙ Nico loves a good challenge; if he finds his life isn't filled with enough, he may just seek them out

dislikes. he hates anything that is unpredictable, he likes to feel ahead of the game instead of behind it ∙ he could care less for people that are weak, he enjoys when someone proves that they are just as strong and manipulative as he is ∙ he doesn't waste time with people that don't like him ∙ he has had a strong distaste for for the holidays ∙ he despises the taste of processed food and has become something of a vegan

strengths. here

weaknesses. here

fears. here

ABILITIES

phobikinesis | here panic inducement | here enhanced combathere | here

HISTORY

Here.

#dgoc

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saintheartwing · 6 years ago

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Soft Hands

Dr. W.D Gaster wasn't sure why he told 1-S and 2-P what he did. But one question about humans and monsters led to another, and before he knew it, he was recalling the one time he met a human. The one time his interaction with the species wasn't tainted by blood, war, anxiety or fear. A moment in time he still, to this day, doesn't understand. And wishes that he did...

==========================================

W.D Gaster regretted telling 1-S and 2-P what he had.

1-S had talked about learning how to dodge to his brother, the tubby skeleton speaking quietly and softly to his brother in the cell about how humans fought, and about how their creator had said humans did what they did to monsters for one simple reason...they were stronger, and killing monsters benefited them. It was just kill or be killed. And Subject P had remembered the doctor speaking about the war between monsters and humans.

And so a question had popped out of 2-P's mouth. And it had been a question Gaster remembered asking his ownparents, back when he had been Subject P's age, looking so, SO much like P did now...

"Had humans always been like that?"

"No, not always." Gaster found himself answering automatically. He'd flinched at this, cringing a bit, realizing he had just opened the door to the curious twosome to ask even more questions, 1-S's voice rising out from the cell the two were within. Gaster had to look away from the snazzy metal clipboard he'd been writing on to look at the two as 1-S's short framed-form rose up from off the plain blanket he'd been lying down on.

"Oh really?" 1-S inquired. "So they didn't always want to kill monsters? Does that mean they liked you at some point?"

"Not exa-" Dr. Gaster now looked flustered. He looked away slightly, and Sans knew, he KNEW that look on the doctor's cracked face. The way the lines that ran up from his left and right eye would somehow shake, the faint crease on his features always gave away the fact he had been close to saying something juicy, and his natures were fighting it out. There was the inner scientist in Gaster who so badly WANTED to talk about the strange, almost unknowable creature that was "Man", that wanted P and S to know about everything they were capable of so they could be prepared, be ready...to kill, or be killed, if the need arose. Then there was their captor, who didn't want them to know too much, to know enough to hurt him, to use against him, to...feel.

Some part of S knew that, at one point, Gaster had cared about them.

Perhaps he'd even loved them.

But he had known that if he kept caring, kept loving, he couldn't hurt them. And for "everyone else's sake"...to "do what he had to, what people need me to do"...he had to distance himself. Some part of S knew that.

And despised Gaster for it.

Did Gaster not want to tell them because talking about the time before all this, before monsters and humans had fought, was a time that belonged to a different Gaster? A softer, kinder one? That if he talked too much about them, admitted to him, he might start to feel again? To care again? Subject S knew Gaster had lost friends and family, that much he'd picked up on from their talks about the war, as did P. Was Gaster just determined to talk about that life as little as possible so he wouldn't have to remind himself of what it meant to feel for others?

Or maybe he just didn't want to talk because...yes, maybe that was it.

Gaster was a coward. S knew this. Gaster had almost screamed at Subject P when P had tried to say that maybe it wasn't Gaster's fault his kind had died off so horribly the way they had in the war. That Gaster, being so young, couldn't have done anything to fight the humans off, that if was on THEM for fighting and killing to begin with, and Gaster couldn't cope with that, having blamed himself for so long.

Perhaps he just didn't want to feel like a coward again.

"...I don't think you could understand." Gaster muttered out.

"Well...try us!" P insisted. "Did the humans ever live together with monsters?"

Gaster actually chuckled dryly at this. "Live together"? A bit of a stretch." He sighed, and for a moment, his tone became wistful. Softer.

"In the old days, the large towns and cities of our realms had dividing lines of territory. On those lines, there were other towns and cities, mutually shared by monsters. Nobody was really "living together". Though they may have passed each other on the street, or bought from the same market or shops, visited the same smiths and book stores and stood under the same rain and the same clouds...no. They didn't live together. Not in public at any rate. Such an idea would be...unthinkable. After all, monsters were...well...monsters." Gaster chuckled again, shaking his head.

"Creepy or terrifying or strange. What people do not know, they often fear. Then again, there is also some who have an attraction to the unknown, and sometimes they saw...creatures they could warm up to in us."

"Like what?" S wanted to know. Now he was intrigued. Gaster's scientist side had won over. The need to explain, to talk about all he knew, to share his knowledge had won over the fear of dredging up old wounds and the worry of "am I telling them too much". He was an eager teacher who'd just needed a little push.

"Well, the Temmie race, of course. They were furry, adorable, and they had a very...charmingly quaint way of speaking." Gaster sighed, adjusting the glasses he wore atop his bony, skeletal head. "You might have seen a picture of them on that "Tem Flakes" box you got when you got into my office." He added.

"Ohhh, THOSE things!" P's eyes were going all starry, a beaming expression on his face. "They are so, so cuuute! The little tails, and the floppy ears and the tiny little noses!"

"Yes, humans found them similar to "cats". I suppose humans have more...mercy in them for creatures that are cute and cuddly and similar to creatures they keep as pets. If a monster was small and adorable and young, a human tended to be more...sympathetic. A matter of simple "herd instinct", I imagine." Dr. Gaster said as he rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Young life tends to make humans go all...cuddly." He remarked.

It was true. He'd seen it in quite a lot of the animes and cartoons that his dear friend Alphys had shown him. Whenever a baby or a puppy or a kitten or small animal was on the screen, they were always being fawned over. Had he been able to keep 1-S and 2-P from aging, maybe he could have snuck them across the barrier as hidden adorable weapons that no human would ever suspect of being a threat. After all, something so tiny and soft who could barely fit your finger in their hand would melt the heart of just about anyone. You'd NEVER hit an infant.

"And there were some humans who had an attraction to a few of the monsters that were more...human in appearance? Some monsters had very human traits, like a humanoid upper or lower body. In fact, the melusine, or "merpeople" race had charmed over quite a lot of humans."

"Mer-whuh?" 1-S wanted to know. "Who're they?"

"They look rather much like fishy people. Sailors had often told of the majesty of the mermaids, and it wasn't uncommon at all to see people tilting their heads to watch these fine specimens walking down the road." Gaster chuckled as he took off his glasses, cleaning them with a napkin from his pocket. "Their hair would be a beautiful crimson or scarlet, so many shades of red, with scales that had such a fascinating blend of blue. The way the sun would gleam off their scaly bodies was a thing of beauty indeed. An exotic beauty that would entrance many a human. Sometimes they even fell in love. That's where the legend of "The Little Mermaid" came from. I used to love reading that story." He added, trailing off.

Oh yes, he used to love reading it. The mermaid had given up so much to be with the human, and for a while, the human prince had loved her too. And it had seemed, at first, that they WOULD be together. Yes, getting there had hurt the mermaid greatly. Hurt the monster greatly. But they were in love, and happy...

And then that had changed when the prince had married the human princess instead, believing the princess, not the mermaid, had saved his life those years ago.

Back then, he'd tried to take some comfort in the knowledge that the little mermaid, though she had died, had gained an immortal soul, and had become a beautiful spirit who'd one day rise up into the "Kingdom of God". That at least she'd not turned to nothing but seafoam, and had gotten a chance at an even greater happiness. Yet looking back at it...he felt angry that she'd STILL, after all she'd endured, have to do good deeds for humans for 3 centuries.

Hadn't she suffered enough?

"Did you ever meet any...nice humans?" 2-P asked. "Were there any where you lived?"

Gaster then flinched a bit, and 1-S could tell from the look on his face that yes. Yes, he HAD met nice humans. But even that hadn't been good.

"...I remember one in particular." Gaster finally said.

He'd been racing down the street, carrying several library books, intent on returning them. He didn't want to get in trouble, after all. He'd had on his usual overlong, grey and dark grey sweater, the adorable red scarf, the big glasses, too huge for his face. Panting heavily, he'd been tearing down the cobblestone road of the town, sandal-clad feet somewhat slipping about. "OOOF! C'mon, c'mon, c'mon!" He murmured, the books bouncing about in his arms. He had to get there in 9 minutes or it'd be closed and he'd have to pay a fine!

The sunlight was piercing through patches of clouds above, the humans in this section of town giving him the occasional look. Some found him a little cute, no doubt, since he was a "baby bones", a child skelly. Others found it unsettling, freakish, muttering the curse "revenant" under their breath, for they, like many, believed that skeleton monsters came from dead humans. An idea that did have some merit, for the only other way for skeleton monsters to be made came from cutting out pieces of their own body to create more, and since normal monsters didn't HAVE skeletons, well...where hadthe first skeleton monsters arisen from? And others still just...didn't care. They had their own troubles and were busy with other things clouding their mind like the skies above were clouding up.

And that was when he rounded the corner, just a few dozen feet from the library...and smacked headlong into a human.

"OUCH!" They collapsed onto the sidewalk below, people nearby stopping. Some looked concerned for both, others only worried about the human, a few particularly unpleasant people sniggering as the human girl Gaster had ran into moaned. "Heyyy!" She said, adjusting the thick glasses that she wore. "Watch where you're going!" She told him in an aggravated voice, Gaster blushing nervously, their books all sprayed out around them. "You made me drop my library books!"

"S-Sorry, sorry!" Gaster apologized as he began scrambling to pick them all up so he could give hers back and pluck his own up. Best to take care of hers first...he didn't want people to think he was inconsiderate. "H-Here, I'll...I'll pick them up for you!"

"Can't you be more careful, I mean...really..." The human girl muttered. She was wearing a shirt that was purplish in color, with scraggly pants. Based on her slightly holey shoes, the somewhat cloudy glasses, and the frizzled, rather spiky mess of brown hair she had atop her head, she wasn't very well-to-do. She pushed the glasses up a bit on her somewhat sharp nose, her thick eyebrows raised a little as she reached down to pluck up one of her own books.

And as she did so, her hand touched his as he reached for the same.

Absolute silence reigned. Gaster nervously gulped, for he realized she was now slightly gripping his bony hand, and she was staring right into his eyes. Eyes so very teal in color, so...soft. Her mouth was slightly agape, people murmuring and whispering as Gaster stared back, confused by the expression on her face.

"What is it?" He asked. "Your, um...your hand is...on mine...could you-" He began to say.

"Your HAND." She whispered out.

"Yes?"

"It's...fuzzy. It's so...soft." She murmured, looking down at it, lifting it up, feeling over it with her own hands, her eyes getting wider. "Like...it's like the hair on a comfrey leaf." She muttered out. "I thought it would be hard and bony but...its so fuzzy. It's...nice."

She held his hand, looking at it for a long time, then at him. He stared back into her, and as she held it there, the other humans looking at each other, confused, a bit surprised, Gaster thought he saw the girl crying, and trying to hold it back in her eyes. She let his hand go, picking up the last of her books and quickly walked away, leaving Gaster's books in a small pile right in front of him.

He would never see her again, but he would remember how she'd held his hand. How she'd felt over the soft texture of his bones. How surprised she'd been to feel it, and he remembered how...oddly warm and soft human hands could be.

Hands.

...why had she cared so much that his hands were so...soft?

He just didn't understand humans sometimes.

"Humans are just...strange." He finally said. "Years of study and even I barely know anything. And honestly, sometimes...I don't think THEY know anything about themselves."

With that, he left them alone, heading back to his office, putting his hands in the pockets of his white labcoat, softly feeling over the textures of his own palm...

And the tiny, tiny little hairs they had.

Author’s Note:

There's been plenty of stories showing the crueler and more sadistic side of Gaster from Zarla's "Handplates" tales. I wanted this story to show a more...introspective side of him, and a peek into his younger life. Since Zarla tries to make the interactions with monsters and humans more realistic I thought I'd show a more realistic reaction, a realistic moment in time.

Life is made up of little moments like this. Whether the human actually had her mind changed about monsters or not, well...that wasn't really the focus. I really just wanted to try and capture a piece of time, a mood, a fleeting part of Gaster's life where, for the tiniest moment, two hands both reached into the expanse of a beautiful and magical world.

But if you want to know whether I think the human DID change her mind, well...those who've read my previous work maaaay recognize how...familiar the human's description seems.

#zarla #zarla-s #handplates #undertale #gaster #wd gaster #papyrus #sans #fanfiction

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sprnklersplashes · 7 years ago

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Across My Memory (1/?)

The Evil Queen cannot be stopped. After 23 years she breaks the peace and happiness that the Enchanted Forest had seen and returns to do what she vowed to do long ago; cast the Dark Curse. With only her memories intact, Princess Emma must step up and fight for her kingdom and their happy endings, as well as her own. But with the Evil Queen watching, the slightest misstep could have catastrophic consequences. For the first time, Emma fights a battle alone.

A cursed!Captain Duckling/Charming family AU, including several other characters and relationships.

Words for this chapter: 5,593

As she rolled out of bed, Jenny cursed every god she could possibly think of. When her bare feet hit the lilo she bit back a shriek as cold jabbed at her feet and sent the sensation through her legs, and the frigid morning air did not help. She stumbled in the almost complete darkness in her t-shirt before her hands managed to find her sweat pants and she pulled them on, all the while her alarm clock played its infernal tune of “beep-beep-beep, beep-beep-beep”, drilling into her head.

“Shut up!” she snapped, slamming her fist on it to turn the damn thing off. “Jonathan?” Jenny opened her door and marched down the hall with the intention of pounding on her brother’s door, only to hear his voice coming from the kitchen.

“I’m up!” Jenny ran the short distance to the kitchen to see her 15-year-old brother sitting on the kitchen table, bowl of cereal in hand and school uniform on. On, not at, despite the many lectures she had given him about how he should definitely not put his ass where they eat. “Chill.”

“Don’t tell me to chill,” she sighed but there was nothing behind her words. After a few seconds of silence, he slid off the table. “Good boy. I’ll go get dressed.”

“I’ll put on your coffee,” he called back. Despite everything, her lack of sleep, the impending long day ahead of her, which would no doubt bring asshole customers, she smiled. She had her brother around to do angelic things like this, so how bad could it be?

*****

Killian’s hand squeezed Emma’s softly, his thumb running over her knuckles and Emma allowed a small giggle to escape her lips. She hated clichés, always did and always would, but she did feel if she was any happier she would burst.

Her family stood behind her. She knew her father was crying, sap that he was. But she was her father’s girl after all. Her mother was managing to keep herself composed, which Emma saw as a minor miracle. She half expected her mother to burst into tears before she even reached the altar. Then there was her little brother. She had talked her mother into allowing Robert to wear dress much more casually for her wedding, knowing that he would feel much more comfortable in his shirt and breeches than any kind of princely garments.

Then there was her son. Her amazing, beautiful son sat closest to the alter, his hands clasped together so tightly his poor knuckles would be turning white as he beamed at her. He was trying so hard to hide how bored he was. And she loved him for it.

“If you’d like to recite your vows?” the priest asked.

“Emma,” Killian began. His voice trembled, and Emma tightened her grip on his hand. “When we met I was a broken, desperate man who only cared about getting my revenge, however bloody that path would be. But then we met, and you took me on that quest to save your parents and everything changed. You inspired me and showed me that goodness still exists in a soul even when it’s shrouded in darkness, you just have to fight for it. You showed me how to fight, like you did. You are the bravest and kindest person I have met, and I pledge the rest of my days to holding you and helping you as you progress to ruling this land, and to never for one second make you feel as though you are any less than perfection.”

Emma couldn’t stop a tear rolling down her face and Killian lifted his hand to gently wipe it away. She felt like she was perfection in that moment, with her subjects gathered around her, her family watching her and Killian pledging his love to her.

“Killian. I was raised on stories of true love and those epic romances. But the thing is I never thought it was in the cards for me. I thought that being a Princess stopped me from getting that. Then I almost knew some sort of love and then I lost it and I lost all hope. But then I met you and everything changed. You’ve seen all of me, the good, the bad, the inbetween, and you loved all of it. You make me feel like, no matter what gets thrown at me, I can overcome it. I want you to be my partner in everything I do, for the rest of our lives.”

“Do you, Killian Jones, take this woman to be your wife, and promise to love, honour and obey her until death do you part?”

“I do.”

“Do you, Princess Emma, take this man to be your husband, and promise to love, honour and obey her until death do you part?”

“I do.” Every fibre in Emma’s body felt like it would burst. If she could, she’d take this single moment and hold onto it. She saw herself in ten years, being worried and confused with the duties of being Queen, and just allowing this one memory to calm her.

Just before her and Killian’s lips could touch, the doors to the ballroom flew open.

Emma had never seen the woman who came in, but she didn’t need to. Her reputation preceded her. Despite falling from grace, she still walked with the arrogance of a false queen. Dressed in black from head to toe, Emma remembered that her mother told her it was “her colour, it matched her soul”. Age had taken its toll on her; her raven hair had begun to turn grey.

She was the one who haunted Emma’s dreams as a young girl and she had prayed she would never see her. She took comfort in the fact that her parents had banished her to the depths of the wilderness, where she would live out her days in misery and pain.

“The Evil Queen!” Grumpy exclaimed, sending a gasp rippling throughout the crowd. As she approached the altar, Emma could see the resemblance to her portrait that her mother insisted on keeping. Except where she looked softer, kinder in the pictures, what was before her looked like a statue come to life. There was nothing to her features, no warmth or humanity. Just a smirk that promised destruction.

“How dare you show your face here!” her father roared as he unsheathed his sword and marched towards her. A flick of the Queen’s wrist and red magic ran through him, freezing him in place.

“Father, no!” Emma shouted, running from the alter to her father. She sighed in relief when she felt a pulse underneath her fingertips.

“Calm down dear, he’s not dead.” The Queen stepped forwards and forcefully grabbed her chin.

“I’d thank you to keep your paws off my wife,” Killian snarled, grasping the handle of his sword.

“I won’t harm her. Or any of you pathetic little creatures. My visit is social.” The Queen dropped her chin and turned to address the crowd. “For I bring a gift for the newlyweds. My gift to you is this happy, joyful day. For tomorrow, I finish what I promised twenty-three years ago. I cast my curse.”

“You can’t,” Emma said through gritted teeth. Of all the nightmares, the idea of the Dark Curse haunted her the most. Being trapped in a different mind, far from her family, trapped in an endless, miserable day. “My parents told me they stripped you of your magic, you can’t cast this curse.”

“Magic, my dear, can be taken. Just like your parents took mine, I took magic from another. Enough to cast my curse and doom you and the rest of your family to the misery you deserve. On the day of your darling son’s seventh birthday, everything you have will be mine.”

“Not on my watch, Your Highness,” her mother shouted, causing Emma to flinch. Snow pushed her way through the crowd with her father’s sword in her hand. “The only one who deserves misery is you!”

She swung at the Queen, but in a puff of black smoke, she was gone. The sword sliced the thin air.

*****

“You’re late,” Granny called as Jenny slid in the door. “Nine means nine, girl. Not nine oh five.”

“I know, Ms Lucas, and I’m so sorry,” she sighed. “Thing is, Jonathan’s bus was late, and I don’t like to leave until I see him get on the bus and then I ran here as fast as I could….” She stopped when she saw Mrs Lucas smile.

“You’re lucky I have a soft spot for you and that brother of yours, Jenny Bird.” Jenny allowed herself to smile as Mrs Lucas patted her on the shoulder. “Now come on, lasagne won’t defrost itself.”

If there was a God, Jenny would thank them over and over for Mrs Lucas for giving her this job no questions asked. Granny’s, the diner she ran with her granddaughter Ruby, was always her and Jonathan’s favourite childhood spot. She remembered her parents taking them every Friday and splitting ice cream sundaes with them. Chocolate for her and her dad, strawberry for her mom and Jonathan.

Then there was the car crash. No more parents, no more ice cream sundaes, no more Friday night trips to Granny’s. Just a confused and sad eight-year-old and a terrified sixteen-year-old with no money and no means of providing for him. Granny had come to her after delivering another casserole one night and whispered to her that if she wanted, she could take a part time job at her place. Job meant money, and money meant paying the rent, getting food, they bought themselves and most importantly, it meant Mayor Mills might not ship Jonathan off to a foster home like she threatened to do every time she saw them together.

It didn’t mean she enjoyed it. It was long hours, stressful work, especially at the lunch rush, ungrateful customers, few tips. But it gave her money and put the day in. So, she couldn’t complain.

Emma went about her day, serving and cleaning tables, washing dishes, handing out to go orders. When she started she had been awful, mixing up orders, missing customers, forgetting to clean a table but now she ran through it like a professional. As if she was born to clean tables.

“All right, Leroy, enjoy your burger,” she said with just the right amount of sarcasm in her voice as she handed Leroy a to-go bag.

“Don’t tell me what to do, sister,” he scoffed. Of all the customers, Leroy had to be her least favourite.

Second least favourite she thought as the bell jingled and the Mayor entered, her son in tow.

“Hello Madam Mayor,” she greeted with a warm smile on her face, doing everything but drop to her knees and beg “please see me as a good and responsible guardian for my brother.” Regina cast a quick glance at her, nose wrinkled. Jenny wondered why she chose to take her son to eat in a place she clearly saw as beneath her.

“Indeed, Miss Bird. Still working here?”

“Just haven’t found my true calling yet,” Emma chirped, while wondering if shoving the steak knife through her skull would be worth it.

“I hope for your brother’s sake you find it soon,” she said, the conversation quickly becoming a lecture. “Do you know how much a year at the University of Maine would cost for him?”

“Madam Mayor, he’s 16. I think it’s a little early to be thinking colleges,” she answered, laughing nervously.

“Is it?” She placed a hand on the back of Henry’s head. “The minute Henry was taken home, I started investing in college fund. I want him to be able to attend the school of his choice. You and Jonathan haven’t had that conversation, I assume?”

“No ma’am,” Jenny sighed. “We haven’t.”

“Let me give you some facts, Miss Bird. One year at the University of Maine would cost you over $24,000. And that’s here. What if he wants to go somewhere else? I doubt you will be able to scrape up half that money if you are stuck here for the next two years.” Jenny curled her hand into a fist. “But a nice foster family, a well-off foster family, they could send him anywhere he wants to go.”

“He doesn’t need a foster family,” Jenny argued. “He has me.”

“You?” the Mayor scoffed. “A high school drop out with no qualifications, no prospects, no future?”

“I’m taking night classes to get myself back on track,” she told her. The Mayor’s eyebrows shot up and her mouth fell into an ‘oh’ of surprise.

“Is that so?”

“Yes. Mr Elliot from the high school is teaching me literature. He says I could pass and maybe if I apply myself and take more classes get my diploma. Maybe even go to college myself.”

“Indeed. Well I suppose that is nice to hear.” The Mayor shook her head, her lips pressed into a hard line. “Who knows? Perhaps you’ll surprise us all. Now onto my order, I’ll take a black tea.”

“No problem, Mayor Mills.” Jenny’s eyes fell on Henry’s small face, eyes glued to the jar of lollipops on the counter. “And if you want, little man can have a lollipop. They’re on the house.” Henry burst into a smile and he jumped slightly, tongue poking out already.

“I do hope you don’t feed Jonathan like that,” the Mayor sighed, eyeing the lollipops as if they were slugs that had slithered over her shoes. “Sugar is the enemy of child growth.” Henry tugged on his mother’s hand, silently pleading with her. “But I suppose one can’t hurt.”

Minutes later, Regina was seated at the table at the window, sipping on her tea while Henry made small talk with her.

“Poor kid,” she muttered so that only Ruby could hear. Ruby’s eyes flicked up from her phone momentarily to watch the scene.

“Can’t imagine it’s easy, living with her,” she agreed.

“Like some sort of backwards Annie,” Jenny sighed. She couldn’t explain it, but she had always had a soft spot for Henry. The Mayor said that she had adopted when he was weeks old after the birth mother put up a closed adoption. In the Mayor’s words, she had ‘wanted nothing to do with him’ and never missed an opportunity to talk about how much she had saved him.

If you asked Jenny, she would say it seemed the Mayor didn’t want much to do with her son either. She would see them out together, with him almost stumbling over himself to keep up with her long strides, and she didn’t care to look back. His tiny fingers fidgeted at his side or in his coat pocket while a black leather handbag hung from her perfectly manicured hands. She would glance around the street with ice in her eyes and he would look like a lost puppy at every candy store and toy shop and friend they passed.

Part of Jenny wished she could take the kid off the Mayor and let him live with her and Jonathan.

Henry glanced up at her and she poked out her tongue. When he did the same, she wanted nothing more than to lift him out of there and never turn back.

******

“Calm down, my love,” Killian pleaded with her as she stormed into her chambers, tearing off the crown of flowers she had chosen instead of a veil.

“I can’t calm down, Killian,” she told him. “Not when the Evil Queen is going to take back everything that she wants. She’s going to tear us all apart forever.”

“Emma.” He took her face in his hand and pressed a kiss to her golden hair. “Nothing in the world could separate us.”

“He’s right,” her father said as he came in with her mother. “Nothing can tear this family apart.”

“Where’s Henry?” she asked.

“In his room with your brother,” Snow said.

“Is he okay?”

“As well as can be expected. He’s shaken up, he’s scared, but he’s okay.”

Emma rubbed her forehead and started pacing.

“Henry turns seven in two months. Less than that. What do we do?” she asked, more to herself than anyone else.

“Emma, calm yourself,” her father begged. “We defeated the Evil Queen before, we can do it again.”

“And how long did that take?” she asked. “You had years of war and fighting and even then, you barely even survived. We don’t have that!”

“We don’t have a way to stop her,” her mother agreed. “But we might have found a way to keep you safe. The wardrobe.”

Emma’s stomach clenched. She knew the stories of course, that her parents planned to put her in a wardrobe and she would come back to break the curse and save them. It never came to pass, of course. But she would grow up alone, unloved, unwanted. Believing her parents hated her. That was the worst curse Regina could have ever cast.

“I-I can’t,” she whispered. “I can’t go and leave you behind. Leave Robert and Henry behind-”

“Emma, it is your destiny,” her father insisted. “You are the first child of our True Love.” Tears welled in his eyes as he cupped her face. “I wish to the gods it didn’t have to end like this. I want you to stay here, in this realm, and rule your kingdom as it was meant to be.”

“This is only a precaution,” Snow whispered. “She may not even cast her curse.” David smiled and reached out for his wife. “We defeated her once and we will surely do so again.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Mama,” Emma said, smiling softly. She took her mother’s hand and let her lead her down the hall to her old nursery. *****

“Mr Elliot.” Elliot looked up to see the Mayor standing in his classroom door. The kids had long cleared out by then; he was staying behind to catch up on some extra marking.

“Madam Mayor,” he greeted. “What can I do for you?” She stalked into his classroom, eyeing the chairs and desks with disdain. “Here, take my seat.” He got up and stood awkwardly across from her as she settled in his leather chair.

“I’m here because I have heard you have been teaching Jenny Bird,” she said calmly. “Is this true?”

“Yes, it is,” he said, puffing his chest out. “And she is doing fantastically, Miss Mills. And who knows, maybe when she gets more time, maybe when her brother moves out, she can take even more classes, and she-”

“Yes, yes, I’ve heard all about her plans for a diploma and college,” she sighed, waving her hand dismissively. “Mr Elliot, do you really believe that that is in Miss Bird’s best interests?”

“How could it not be?” he chuckled nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. “I mean, she’s such a bright young girl, and her education was cut short. I only want to see her succeed in life. She deserves as much of a chance as anyone else.”

“And what about Jonathan?”

“Jonathan?” he repeated dumbly.

“Yes, Jonathan Bird, her younger brother,” the Mayor went on.

“I know who Jonathan Bird is, I just don’t understand what he has to do with his sister and her studies,” Elliot said. “He is as bright as his sister, although I daresay he could learn a thing or two about drive from her.”

“Yes, he is bright. And he needs to stay on track to success. And what he does not need is his sister, and guardian, distracted by commitments like this.” Elliot took in a deep breath and counted to five,

“Mayor Mills, I’m sure Jenny can manage just fine, as she has been for the past seven years since she lost her parents.” He perched himself on the edge of the desk. “Look, since she lost her parents, she has had nothing. She’s had to work to support herself and her brother, as well as raising him since she was still a kid herself. She needs this.”

“Well that’s my point isn’t it?” she snapped. “I am a mother, and I work. I don’t take time off from raising my son to do pointless activities, no matter how much I may want to. And how do you think not having his sister around for the better part of the day will affect Jonathan?”

“Mayor Mills, it is two hours, twice a week,” he pleaded. “I can cut back, but really, it’s barely taking a dent in her life.”

“Yes, you can cut back,” she said. “Stop the lessons altogether. Let her raise her brother in peace, instead of filling her head with this nonsense about colleges. And then, when her brother has grown, you can start again, maybe.”

“Mayor Mills, please,” he sighed. “Don’t do this. These lessons mean the world to her, to take them away would break her heart.”

“And build her character,” she replied, standing up from the seat. “Do it, Mr Elliot, if you have either of the Bird children’s best interests at heart.”

“And if I refuse?” Elliot’s voice was much smaller than he had intended it to be. The Mayor’s mouth quirked into a smile and she took one calculated step towards him.

“How do you think social services will react when they hear a 15-year-old boy’s legal guardian has been leaving him to have private meetings with one of his teachers?” She held up a hand to silence him before he could protest. “You know how persuasive I can be. Or have you forgotten how you got this job? Stop the lessons. And I know you know better than to mention my name.”

The Mayor strolled casually out of his classroom, dusting off her jacket as she went.

******

Emma felt Killian’s arms wrap around her as he steadied her. She was strong, she knew she was, but the sight that greeted them in the nursery was too much for her to handle.

The wardrobe, the one that was meant to be their salvation, or at least a tiny glimmer of hope, had been burned to ashes.

Her knees gave out and Killian tightened his grip on her, swaying slightly and stroking her hair. It was basic instinct to him now. She heard him mutter “no” under his breath, saw him look to her parents in horror.

“This can’t be happening,” Emma choked out. “How can she have gotten in here? How can she have known about the wardrobe?”

“I thought you all put an enchantment on the lock to stop anyone who wasn’t of your blood from coming in,” Killian said. The enchantment was put on when the Queen was first banished. The magic even prevented Emma herself from being able to enter the room until she was a teenager. “A precaution” was what her parents had called it. “Nothing more” they had said. “The Queen will never come back.”

Emma could have laughed. Instead she settled for burying her face in her now-husband’s chest and choking back a sob.

“Tell me there is a way out of this,” she sighed.

“We’ll find a way, we always do,” her mother insisted. Emma shook her head. The sick feeling in her stomach worsened, threatening to bring up her breakfast.

“I need a moment,” she mumbled and stormed out of the room. Faintly, she heard Killian move to follow her only to be stopped by her father. Emma pressed her hand to her mouth to muffle her cries.

“Always a shame to see a bride crying on her wedding day,” a familiar voice remarked.

“Merlin!” Emma exclaimed as she saw her former tutor, apparently having appeared out of nothing and leaning against the wall opposite her. “Don’t you ever knock?”

“I could but where’s the fun in that?” he smirked.

“Merlin, the Queen is back,” Emma began. “She’ll cast her curse and we have two months to figure out how to stop her.”

“I know, Emma, I know,” he said. “I have something-”

“You do? What is it? Tell me!” Laughing slightly, Merlin placed his hands on her shoulders.

“I think this may be something your parents would like to hear as well.” He offered her his arm and she gave a weak smile. She let him lead her back into the nursery.

“Merlin!” Snow greeted with a smile, the kind of smile that said she knew everything would be all right. Emma envied her mother’s optimism.

“I heard about the Evil Queen. And I think I have a solution,” he said.

“You can stop the curse from being cast?” Killian asked. Merlin looked at him. Merlin was the closest thing Emma had to an older brother, and so when she first began seeing Killian, Merlin gave him the same treatment as her father had. The two had come to some form of alliance, even though Killian had remarked that Merlin was one of the few things in this realm that could scare him.

“No. No one can. But I have these.” Merlin opened his hand and showed them two black stones.

“Memory magic?” Emma asked, remembering learning about pebbles that could store memories from Elsa when she visited Arendelle. “How will this help us?”

“The curse will strip us of all our memories of who we once were,” he explained. “Think of these as back-ups. We can store our memories in here and find them when we’re under.” He took a deep breath. “Unfortunately, these are the only two we can take.”

“Can’t we get more from Arendelle?” Emma asked.

“These are the only ones that will work in the Land Without Magic,” he told her. “So now we choose which two get to keep their memories.”

“Emma,” Killian said immediately. “Emma should keep hers.”

“He’s right,” her father agreed. “You were the original Saviour and you have the most control over your magic. You need to keep yours.” Merlin chucked one pebble through the air and Emma caught it.

“Now that just leaves this one.” Merlin looked from Snow, to David, to Hook. “Who should join her?”

“You should,” Emma said. Merlin pretended to be shocked, but the way he smiled told her otherwise. She smiled back. “I’ll need you if things go south. You’re the only other one with magic and the wisest man we know.”

“Wisest person,” he corrected her. “Just to clarify. But I accept. Sleep with that stone under your pillow tonight and it will absorb your memories. Then have it on you when the curse hits.”

“Then I’ll remember who I am?”

“Not quite. You’ll only be able to access your memories when you need them most. When your cursed life is the darkest.”

*****

The moment the clock struck four, Jenny ran to clock out, hurriedly lifting her jacket from the rack.

“You’re in a rush today,” Granny remarked. “Home isn’t going anywhere you know.”

“I have a lesson today,” she explained. “With Mr Elliot. And he’ll kill me if I’m late.” After bidding farewell to Granny and Ruby, she ran out the door and to her house to grab her backpack before running to the high school, slowing down only when she called Jonathan.

“I’ll be fine,” he assured her. “I’ll do my homework and watch bad TV.”

“Okay. I’ll be back at six to make dinner so stay out of the cookie jar,” she ordered. She smiled when she heard him sigh on the other end. “Love you.”

“Love you too, sis.” He hung up just as she reached the steps of the high school.

Dropping out had been one of the hardest and most brutal decisions she had ever made. She didn’t care if it made her sound weird, Jenny adored school. She didn’t even mind getting up so early, she had loads of friends, she got on with teachers, she aced every class, she loved learning. It was amazing for her.

Then her parents died, Regina insisted she get a job or Jonathan would have to be sent away and she dropped out of high school. She and her friends drifted further and further apart until they eventually stopped talking to each other. The only learning she got was from documentaries on YouTube or library books, until the damn library closed down. Teachers regarded her with a friendly wave in the streets or a nod, but nothing else. She had gone from golden girl to outcast in all of six months.

So, when Mr Elliot, whom she had always adored, contacted her and asked about English literature classes, how could she refuse?

Jenny took the stairs two at a time until she reached Mr Elliot’s classroom. She found him leaning on the desk, his fingers tapping on the wood.

“Hey, Mr Elliot,” she greeted, sitting at a desk and pulling her books out of her bag. “You’re going to be so proud of me, I had a bunch of new thoughts over the last chapter and I thought we could start by-”

“Jenny,” he interrupted. “We need to talk.” Jenny frowned. He was never this sombre. Even at his most serious, he managed to have a smile.

“What is it?” she asked, trying to shake the uneasiness off.

“Jenny, I think it may be for the best if we stop the lessons.” He may as well have hit her.

“Stop?” she croaked out. “Why? Am I failing?”

“No, no of course not,” he said. “It’s just, with all your other commitments, your job, Jonathan, you can’t afford any distractions.”

“I’m not distracted,” she shouted before taking a deep breath and trying to compose herself. “I’m not. I work hard all the time, I cook every meal for Jonathan, I get him to bed on time, I do his laundry. Mr Elliot, I can balance myself here.”

“But how long can you do that, Jenny? How long before we start taking longer with our lessons? And Jonathan’s waiting at home with no dinner-”

“He’s sixteen he can cook for himself!” Emma exclaimed. Hot tears blurred her vision. “He’s not helpless.”

“I know that Jenny. But social services won’t. What if they do decide to check up on you and find you have been leaving him alone, without supervision? What will they do then?” Jenny gripped the desk so tightly her knuckles turned white, desperate for something to ground her. “And it’s taking up my time too. I have exams to grade, serious exams, and I can’t give them the attention they need if I’m teaching you. Jenny, I think you know this is for the best.”

“I don’t think that,” she mumbled pathetically. “I don’t. But if that’s what you think then fine.”

She lifted her bag and stormed out of the classroom, not even bothering to pick up her books as she left.

*****

“Jen?” Jonathan asked when she came in. “You’re home early, did Mr Elliot cancel?”

“You could say that,” she spat. She avoided his eyes as she ran to her bedroom. Her brother would not see her cry.

Once in the safety of her own room, she let the tears come. With her face buried in her pillow, sobs wrecked her body, choking on them. Her pillow grew so wet she couldn’t lie on it anymore, flinging it to the other side of the room and pressing her face onto the mattress instead.

She didn’t want to admit it, but she needed those classes. Between raising Jonathan and working she never got a chance to be herself except for those classes with Mr Elliot. Pouring over a novel, picking it apart and taking every detail, expanding on every metaphor, travelling with the characters, laughing, crying, gasping, receiving endless praise from Mr Elliot for her efforts. That had been an oasis for her.

When she opened her eyes, she saw a purple pebble sitting on her bed. It must have been under her pillow the whole time. She had no idea how it had got there.

Her head throbbed, even more so when she sat up. She lifted the rock in her hand. It was smooth as glass and cold, which was welcome to her hot skin. If she didn’t know better, she’d have said it sparkled.

“Can you grant wishes?” she asked it, another sob bubbling up in her throat. “I could use a wish right now.”

A tear slipped from her face and landed on the pebble.

The Enchanted Forest, her castle, ballgowns and swordfights, open seas and green fields, picnics with her family, laughing in the forest, chasing her brother, a kiss under the stars, her mother’s laugh, her father’s hug, her son’s kisses and her lover’s passion, lessons in the woods, in her room, leather bound books with ancient pages, a white dress and a crown of flowers and a dark cloud, promises, farewells, “I love you”s and goodbyes.

Emma, not Jenny, Emma, that was her name, dropped the rock. It had gone back to black, the way it had looked when Merlin gave it to her.

Merlin. Mr Elliot.

The curse.

Two lives, two sets of memories, waged war in her mind. Jenny, the waitress, the girl next door, the girl with two much on her plate, and Emma, the princess, the one with magic, the heir to the throne, the girl who read magic books when her mother thought she slept. Jenny was the dream, Emma was the reality. Jenny was her cursed self.

“Holy crap,” Emma sighed.

#ouat ff #cs ff #captain swan #charming family #emma swan #bc its her story really #pls read my shit #ouat

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